I, Synth
by kyokki
Summary: What does it mean to be synth? N7-48 doesn't know anything other than being synth, but when she is assigned as an infiltration unit, she may discover that being synth isn't all that different from being human-born. Images used in the cover provided by JensStockCollection and ChamberStock
1. Part 1

I, Synth

 _Sit up_

Those were the first words pumped into my mind, a command that I did not understand but followed anyway. The first words I learned the meaning of, 'sit' and 'up' as the body I did not know rose out of the pool and I took my first look at a world I did not comprehend.

 _Approach the terminal_

More incomprehensible words, but again the body that I was slowly beginning to realize was mine turned and stepped out of the pool. Of course I know what all the equipment around me was now that I look back on it, but you must understand that at the time nothing had context or meaning. It was for a short time, but for the first few minutes of my consciousness I had no more awareness of the world than a human born infant.

 _Begin upload_

The terminal remedied that. The lights glistened across my eyes, downloading all the knowledge it was thought I would need in a matter of minutes.

When I stepped away I _knew_ that my purpose was to serve the humans of the Institute, names, faces, scrolled across the inside of my mind.

Did I look like one of those? The program identified me as female.

 _In any way that they ask of you_

I knew my designation,

 _N7-48_

I knew that I was synth.

* * *

"N7-48."

I immediately put down my spanner and stood, ducking my head slightly. "Yes, Doctor."

"What are your current orders?"

"I am replacing the power couplings in this wall unit, Doctor."

I thought it was obvious what I was doing and was a little confused that he had asked. The Doctor did not seem to be paying much attention to my answer, glancing around to see if there were anyone nearby. I posited to myself that it was a human thing to ask a question that one did not care was answered.

I fought to keep my hand at my side. For some reason when one of the humans of the Institute spoke to me it wished to rise and brush at the hair around my face. I only allowed it the first time, when I was unaware of the consequences of exhibiting what the advanced robotics division later termed a 'harmless approximation of a nervous tic'.

I suppose I _was_ nervous, though I couldn't exactly say why. Perhaps it was the fact that I had been given a specific timeframe in which to complete this task and I was now edging towards being behind schedule. Or it was perhaps because the doctor himself looked nervous. It worried me that I could tell that, for I was not as good at reading facial cues as many of the others. For me to read his expression meant it was writ large and in bold letters.

I held in my questions, waiting for him to speak and was surprised when he took my arm in a punishing grip and moved me away from the open wall panel to a more shadowed corner. I wanted to protest both the grip and leaving the exposed wiring, but the look in his eye stopped me. Suddenly I felt something unfamiliar, which I know now was my first taste of fear.

"Doctor, if I have committed some transgression, please…" I tried not to stammer.

He cut me off with a sharp wave of his free hand. "I need you to listen, and listen well. You are being reassigned. Your dedication has paid off despite a few…hiccups in your programming." His voice turned bitter. "As a matter of fact, those hiccups recommended you to this assignment in the first place."

"I will…perform my new tasks to the best of my abilities." I told him, trying not to shrink back.

"No doubt." He hissed.

Why was he so angry with me?

"You are to be sent to the surface, to infiltrate one of the settlements."

For the first time I was glad of the grip on my arm, for my knees felt on the verge of collapse. My gratitude evaporated when his grip tightened and my hand felt numb.

"You will remember that your first loyalty is to the Institute while you are there. Your first and _only_ loyalty. Is that clear?"

"Of course, Doctor." What was he getting at?

"No matter what you hear, you belong to the Institute." He shook me once. "Do I make myself clear?" He asked again.

"Yes, Doctor." His grip was actively hurting me, and I fought back the moisture that tried to well in my eyes.

"Good." He finally released me, and I nearly gasped at the sudden cessation of pressure. "Don't forget that we always know how to find you." He turned and walked away, his threat lingering in the air behind his black clad shoulders as though invisible Coursers trailed in his wake.

I stood there, shaking, bewildered, trying to find the strength to go back to my assigned task. I needed to finish it or I would be disciplined. But if I were to be reassigned, would it matter? Yes, I decided, this was a last test, to decide my loyalty and reliability. But still I could not will myself to move.

"Are you well, N7-48?"

My head turned slowly to find another synth looking at me curiously. "I am performing within standard specifications, Z1-14." I replied, straightening. Was it my imagination, or did he look disappointed at my reply? But he merely nodded and shifted his grip on the rake he was carrying. As he passed me he spoke quietly, so low that I almost didn't hear him.

"If you have need, look for the lanterns. They will guide you."

"Z1?" I asked, my voice hushed as his, as though somehow I knew that those were dangerous words to be spoken in these halls.

He glanced at me, his expression for the briefest of moments, concerned, then the blank mask dropped back into place and he turned, walking as though he had never spoken at all. After a moment I decided that was my best course of action as well, and moved back to the panel I had left exposed, picking up my spanner and getting back to work as though nothing odd had happened at all.

* * *

Down time was not normally so difficult. My days, the days of nearly all synths who worked in the Institute, followed a certain routine, one that was rarely if ever deviated from. Report to the terminal or whatever department you were assigned to for your daily tasks, accomplish those tasks in the time allotted. Return for more tasks or for dismissal to down time.

We were told it was not sleep, at least not sleep as the human born experienced. We merely shut down for four hours, after which we resumed operation. There were beds, because it unnerved the human born scientists to walk in and find us standing around, as one of them had put it 'still as stuffed and mounted corpses'. So at the designated times, those on the down time shift would enter, lay down and shut their eyes, willing themselves into the darkness.

I was told that at one time down time did not exist, but the scientists found that we wore down more quickly if worked at all hours of the day with no rest periods. So through extensive testing they determined that four hours was the minimum of down time required to keep us at peak performance. I cannot determine if there was a difference, but some of the older synths assured those of the newer generation that it would not be in our interests to skip even one. So I lay there, looking at the darkness behind my eyelids, my cheek pillowed on my hands, waiting for down time to take me.

It took longer than anticipated, but after an interminable time the colors began to flow and form pictures in my head. I did not dare to ask any of the others if they experienced something similar, but from the almost guilty looks some had upon emerging I could only imagine that they did.

I was standing in the dark, on a black reflective plane that stretched out into the distance. I could see myself dimly, distorted, stretching away as though that other me were trying to escape. I took a step forward and my reflection flickered into someone I hardly recognized as myself. She wore a cap on her messy brown hair, and a long coat of some organic based material. There were smudges on her face and dirt under her fingernails. But none of that was what made her unrecognizable,

She/I was smiling. It wasn't a forced smile, or a polite smile, but a broad, slightly mischievous grin that made her hazel eyes crinkle with suppressed mirth. I tried to copy the expression, unused muscles stretching and protesting. She shook her head at me in mock disappointment, then pointed somewhere over my shoulder. I whirled.

In the distance a tall monolith stood, like a beckoning white finger. At the top was a glow. Without thinking I ran towards it. She ran with me, getting farther and farther away, closer in the reflection than I was physically. I could see the light more clearly now, a warm glow promising comfort and safety.

I passed Z1-14, "Look for the lantern," He murmured before disappearing into the darkness,

"Wait." I gasped. But he was gone so I kept running. In front of me my reflection had stopped facing the other direction, but she wasn't my reflection anymore, she was a part of me, and I needed to reach her, to merge, to become whole. I ran straight into her, and we became one. I looked down at what I was holding in my hands, what she had concealed.

It was a lantern.

I laughed as I had never laughed before as the glow of joy enveloped me.

My eyes snapped open.

I was surrounded by the sterile white wall of the Institute. I looked down at my hands, they were clean. The lingering joy slowly evaporated as I sat up and climbed off my mattress. Across from me another synth looked at me with haunted eyes.

"Are you well, H9-16?" I asked.

"I…am functioning within acceptable parameters." He replied, his voice subdued.

An odd feeling of concern swept over me. For some reason I wanted to inquire further, or even reach out and touch his hand or his arm in a gesture of reassurance I had seen some of the human born use on each other. But all I could do was nod and accept his answer. I left him there, his head sunk down on his shoulders as though he were trying to curl in upon himself protectively.

The halls of the Institute felt as they always did, clean and sterile. No one talked other than in hushed voices, as though any loud exclamation would break the careful serenity of the rushing water and quiet footsteps. I approached my assignment terminal and entered my designation. A moment later the message appeared, "N7-48 will report to Advanced Systems." My heart began to beat faster, an unanticipated change in routine. Was my reassignment to happen today?

I made my way to Advanced Systems, the walk taking long enough that I was able to calm my beating heart and take on an air of unconcern when the doors slid apart to admit me. A scientist looked up from his station when I entered and paused, looking around.

"Ah, N7-48, very prompt." He exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. "Follow me," he bustled off into a side corridor to a door that unlocked when he entered a code on the terminal outside. High security section, I surmised. I stepped inside after him, my heart beating faster again when I saw that the room contained only a terminal and a pod-like chair. "Sit down and we'll get started."

I dutifully sat.

"I should let you know that you are being upgraded." He told me, waiting only a moment as though for a response then continuing on before I could form something appropriate. "I had recommended you for the Coursers, but given a few troubles we've had with female Coursers in the past…" He continued, shaking his head, "I'm afraid only male synths are being admitted into the program. So much for equality between the sexes!" He laughed.

I stared at him, but fortunately it seemed as though he was not going to require any responses so I just listened, staring up at the hood hovering over my head and trying not to be nervous.

"But no, you are being upgraded into an infiltration unit. A bit of a prototype, really, I came up with the programming myself, so make sure you make me proud." He looked at me inquiringly. Oh, he wanted me to respond this time.

"I will not let you down, Doctor." I did not know then that it was the first of many lies I would have to utter.

"See that you don't." He nodded. "Generally we use replacements, you know, taking one, substituting another, ready made life and past. But that can come with its share of headaches, let me tell you!" He shook his head. "Better to start fresh." He typed a few commands on his terminal. "There's a new force up there, people are starting to settle, lots of strangers coming together. We're going to take advantage of that."

"I am to…settle?"

He grinned, pleased with himself. "Oh yes, N7-48, you are going to settle and observe. You'll receive your orders in the course of the upgrade. More effective than me telling you myself."

'Oh, but you are itching to tell me yourself, since you like the sound of your own voice so much.' I thought sourly, surprising myself.

"Now, this procedure is going to work something like an overlay. You will still know who you really are, where you came from and what your orders are, with certain stipulations, of course, but in addition to that you will have the memories of a Commonwealth, " His mouth twisted as he said the name, as though he'd eaten a bad batch of synthesized food at the commissary, "woman. You will retain the skills you learned here in order to ingratiate yourself with the natives and the mannerisms to fit yourself seamlessly into their primitive society"

He tapped another button and I tried not to tense as the lid on the pod descended and sealed with a hiss.

* * *

It didn't provide me with a name. Why? Was it an oversight? A glitch in the experimental programming?

I stood next to the Courser who had brought me to the surface. I was shaking a little but the Courser didn't seem to notice, so maybe I hid it well. Or it could be equally possible that he was categorizing everything behind his opaque glasses, and came to the conclusion that it wasn't worth his while to comment on my unease.

Why couldn't I remember how we had gotten here? Perhaps it was a part of those stipulations the scientist had mentioned. The last thing I remembered was the lid of the pod closing in on me, and the next moment, it seemed, I was here. The Institute seemed only like a hazy, half-remembered daydream. I hefted the pack that had lain at my feet to my shoulder, shrugging a few times to settle it over my back. There wasn't much weight to it and I would need to go through the contents later, to make sure I knew what was in there.

The Courser vanished by the time I was done.

"No parting words?" I asked the space he had occupied. Well, that was different. I would never have addressed empty space before. I wondered just what exactly that scientist had put into my head as I smoothed down the front of my leather coat and adjusted the scarf wound around my throat. A weapon hung at my side and I was surprised by the knowledge that I knew how to use it. The memory of having used it before rose unexpectedly and I shuddered as I made my way cautiously to what looked like an old road. The grass slid under my feet as I walked, placing each step carefully, my eyes scanning the surroundings for potential hazards, mole rats, maybe, or feral dogs. I was hoping for nothing bigger than that if I encountered anything at all. Oh, I almost forgot about the giant bugs.

For a second I thought I was going to start hyperventilating, which was something that had never happened to me before. I glanced around before dashing to the left, taking refuge in a stand of trees and undergrowth. Concentrating on taking deep breaths I crouched there and took out my gun, checking to make sure it was loaded before returning it to its place on my hip.

I needed to get moving but instead found myself taking my pack off my back and rummaging through it. Extra ammunition, some purified water and a…tato? Further rummaging produced a handful of bottle caps and finally, shoved at the very bottom was a hat. I pulled it out and stared at it. It looked like a cross between a baseball cap and what was left of an old vomit colored towel. It looked nothing like the hat my down time self had been wearing and I dropped it to the ground in distaste. Then I stepped on it. It truly was _that_ hideous.

For some reason that little act of rebellion fortified me and I found the strength to stand and place my pack again upon my shoulders. I made my cautious way down the road, trying not to jump at shadows and making my way to a place I only knew as Sanctuary.

* * *

It didn't take that long. I had been dropped off a few helpful and frightening miles away. I began to feel better about my chances when I passed a place called Red Rocket that was positively bustling with content looking people. Their homes, it appeared, had been built on top of the station, out of the way of any ground-based predators. Certainly the gun toting guards watched with warning eyes as I walked past their posts but they must not have deemed me too much of a threat because one of them even nodded at me as I passed. I tucked my hair behind my ears and ducked my head in acknowledgment, quickening my pace slightly.

The minuteman statue gave me pause as I passed, but his lofty attention was focused outwards into the Commonwealth, his first steps already having been taken, his weapon held at ready. The memories given to me chimed in with information about the Minutemen, sketchy on their past but a bit more comprehensive on their most recent history. They had been a civilian militia of sorts that had fallen to infighting, abandoning the people they had sworn to serve. Calls went unanswered, many died, whole towns swept off the broken map. They had fallen to a few in number and seemed destined to disappear completely.

But in the last year something had changed. The memory wasn't specific, but apparently a new leader had arisen, called together the few remaining Minutemen, cleared out their stronghold and had made a point of restoring the faith of the people of the Commonwealth in the organization. Nearly every population center had encountered the Minutemen, and nearly all of them had joined them with either troops or providing other resources. I had to wonder who this person was to inspire such faith in such a barbaric society.

Realizing I had been standing there scrutinizing the statue for far too long I turned on the heel of my scuffed boot and found myself standing at the end of a bridge that had fallen into some disrepair. Someone was approaching from the other direction and after eyeing the rotten looking planks I stayed put, allowing him to try his luck first. He and his brahmin made it across without incident, though he gave me a humorous look as he passed, as though this wasn't the first time he had met a new comer standing uncertainly on the edge. He grinned and tipped his hat at me and I found myself ducking my head and blushing.

"Not to worry, she's sound." He chuckled. "Welcome to Sanctuary, miss." He wore impressive and rather intimidating armor, a rifle slung easily across his back. For all his pleasant demeanor he seemed like a man who had traveled much, seen much and survived it all. He continued at an easy pace, his pack animal trotting along behind him. I watched him go then took a deep breath and took my first steps onto the bridge, which creaked, but not as alarmingly as I had feared.

As I made my way across the bridge I felt less than welcomed by the imposing gates at the base of the bridge and the impressive array of turrets chattering away. Guards on the wall watched me approach, weapons at the ready in case I were deemed a threat to security. I didn't see how I could be. One of those turrets shot missles! All I had was a pipe pistol and a tato. I made sure to keep my hands in view as I approached the gate, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. I had a lot of practice at it.

A moment passed and the gate swung open. As I walked through and the guards relaxed enough to stop pointing their weapons at me I noticed an odd piece of graffiti on an unobtrusive bit of plywood. It was a child's drawing of a house in a starburst. It seemed a little out of place but I dismissed it as I walked past and into the settlement. I had made it. I felt the tension drain out of me so fast that I thought I was going to faint, so the first steps I took into Sanctuary were wobbly ones.

"Whoa there," A hand gripped my elbow, steadying me. "You all right?"

I flinched away and the hand released its hold, leaving me to stumble against one of the pillars supporting the shield wall. I couldn't help it. The last time someone had touched me…well.

"Hamilton, get us some water over here." The man crouched in front of me, a careful distance away. "It's all right, you're safe now." His voice was low and reassuring.

I looked up into his face, warm dark skin and warm dark eyes shaded by a hat pinned up on one side. I liked the look of him, and the look of his hat.

He glanced up and away, "Thank you." He murmured as he accepted the water from another man with tawny red hair and a faded tan jacket. He turned back to me, offering the water.

I hesitated.

"Don't worry, you're not the first to stumble through the gates. Please, take it." It wasn't an order, it was an offer, and I shakily took the water, realizing suddenly that I was desperately thirsty. It was a strange sensation. I don't think I had ever been thirsty before. Perhaps it was something else they had tinkered with when they adjusted my memories. I drank deeply and suddenly felt much better. Before I could down the whole thing in desperate swallows the man put his hand on my wrist, stopping me.

"Slowly, you don't want to make yourself sick."

I nodded and sipped.

"Name's Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen." He introduced himself, and my memories corroborated his claims. I needed to make this man trust me, more, I found I wanted him to trust me, to make me welcome. I sipped again, trying to buy myself time to think.

"Ah, and you are?" He asked, a little awkwardly.

They hadn't given me a name.

I couldn't call myself N7-48, that wasn't the name of a human born. I searched my mind frantically for a name, any name. All of a sudden it came to me, "Annette." I said, "My name is Annette,"

There were few memories of my own that I could call fond of my time in the Institute. One of those few were of a child, the daughter of one of the scientists. She had lost her favorite doll and was crying inconsolably, asking everyone and anyone to find her beloved toy and bring it back to her. I had finished my duties earlier than scheduled and searched high and low until I found the toy in one of the planters, hiding behind a broad leafed bush. Perhaps one of the other human born children had hid it there as a joke. When I returned the doll the little girl was in raptures, she hugged me and kissed me on the cheek, not caring that I was Synth, thanking me over and over for returning her doll.

"I love you, Annette," She had told the doll, hugging it to herself before running off to her quarters.

For a fleeting moment I had wished to be that doll, to be so loved.

And now, I could be Annette.

"Pleased to meet you, Annette." Preston said stoically.

My eyes filled, and I took another sip of water until I could get control of my burgeoning emotions. "I heard about this settlement on the radio. I was hoping…" I looked up at him. "Do you think you may have room for me? I'm used to hard work."

He smiled at me. "Always room for a few more hands." Preston stood, smoothing the length of his coat over his knees. "Think you can stand up now?" He thoughtfully didn't extend his hand to assist, no doubt remembering my reaction last time.

I nodded and stood. He took the water container from me and stepped back while I resettled my pack and straightened myself out. A few people glanced our way but Preston seemed so matter of fact about my inglorious arrival that I wasn't too embarrassed.

"If you'll follow me, I'll take you to see the General. She likes to see that everyone gets settled in comfortably." He glanced back to make sure I was following then continued, approaching a house that was once a bright yellow, but was now a patchwork of colors and materials, no doubt covering the holes that time, weather, and scavengers had left in the walls. "We're lucky she's in residence right now, usually she's out roaming the Commonwealth putting out fires and…" He hesitated, "well, for other reasons."

I nervously tucked my hair behind my ears as he approached the solid-looking door and opened it, not bothering to knock. That told me he was familiar enough with this General to not feel the need to ask permission to speak with her. Or maybe everyone was just that informal. I didn't have enough information to come to any conclusions.

The home, when I took a moment to take stock of my surroundings, seemed cluttered, mismatched and oddly comfortable in a way the Institute never had been. Posters hung on the walls, coffee cups sat on the counter and there were a few books on the table by a well-used stuffed chair. All in all it should have seemed like a mess but it didn't, it just seemed lived in.

"General, you busy?" Preston called down a short hallway.

"Not dealing with anything that can't wait a bit." Was the answer that carried through the inexpertly patched walls. "I could actually use your input if _you_ have a minute." I saw out of the corner of my eye that Preston seemed to stand a little taller, a pleased smile chasing across his face.

"Of course, General."

The owner of the voice walked out of a room at the far end of the hallway, fiddling with a device on her wrist. She glanced back. "Deacon, bring the maps, would you?"

"Sure thing, boss." Came a voice still inside the room as the General approached the main living space.

There was a definite air of difference about her, but I couldn't tell what it was. Maybe it was in the way she walked, or held her head, or the way her piercing blue eyes met mine from behind her wire rimmed glasses as she approached. She didn't seem surprised to see me there, and I got the feeling that this woman didn't miss much, if anything.

My heart started pounding in my chest. This woman would be my main obstacle. I _needed_ this woman's trust if I was going to be successful in my mission.

"Well, hello there." She said politely, "Always nice to see a new face." She stuck out her hand and without thinking I took it. "Pleased to meet you, my name is Denali."

An unusual, almost musical name. I liked the way it sounded in my head. "I'm Annette." I stammered in return as she shook my hand. I could feel red rising in my cheeks as she scrutinized me.

"Well, Annette, welcome to Sanctuary Hills."

"Thank you for having me." I bit my lip, had that been the appropriate response?

But she nodded and released my hand, turning slightly to look back at the man who had just exited the room at the end of the hallway. "You got that, D?"

"Did I ever tell you about the time I spent a few years in the Mojave as a member of a traveling circus? You should see me juggle chainsaws." The man replied, humor in his voice.

The look the woman gave him was fond, maybe, I realized when I noticed the warmth in her eyes, a little _more_ than fond. "The Great Deaconi?" She took a few of the rolled up maps from the pile in his arms.

He grinned at her, "How did you guess?" He focused in on me and I had to fight to keep from taking a step back. It wasn't his face, that was pleasant enough, it was the dark glasses that hid his eyes. For a moment the fear gripped me before I realized that he couldn't be what my gut reaction told me. Unfortunately, he noticed. His eyebrows climbed up from behind the frames of his glasses but he didn't comment.

Denali tilted her head at me before nodding as though she had come to some sort of conclusion. "Annette, this is Deacon. Don't worry, he's mostly harmless."

"You wound me, boss."

"Nearly harmless?" She shot back, laughter in her voice though her expression was carefully neutral. She placed the rolled up maps on the counter, turning away for a moment.

The corners of Deacon's mouth twitched. I wished I could see the expression in his eyes.

Behind me Preston cleared his throat.

Denali turned back around to take some more papers from Deacon, addressing me as she did so. "I think you'll fit well with Valeria and Marie for sleeping arrangements. If you don't suit we'll rearrange things but I think you'll like them. Is there anything you want to do, or have a particular skill in? We have plenty of work to go around, but if you have any preferences?"

The question blindsided me. Never before had I been _asked_ what I was good at, or what I would like to do.

"I…I'm good at fixing things?"

"Things like walls?" She perked up, glancing around.

"Well, I could do that, but I was thinking more of mechanical things." She had looked a little disheartened that I wasn't much of a carpenter but perked up again.

"A mechanic?"

"And electrical and…well, most things that have moving parts." I fidgeted, pushing my hair behind my ears before straightening it out again.

She looked thoughtful.

"Anything is fine, though." I continued, starting to feel a little frantic. "I can grow tatos, or patch walls or…do dishes, too."

She held up a hand. I stopped talking gratefully.

"Sturges did say he needed a few more hands." Preston inserted into the silence.

Denali nodded at him. "Yes, he did." She looked at me, her gaze razor sharp while still seeming compassionate. "Will you be comfortable working with a man?" Deacon looked at her sharply, then back to me.

What an odd question. I had…oh. The reaction to Deacon, perhaps she had even seen my reaction to Preston. Yet I had had no hesitation in taking her hand. It seemed she had come to the conclusion that I had been hurt, perhaps badly, by a man. She wasn't too far off, but I doubt that she thought it had stopped at a bruised wrist. I could use this to explain some of the odd behaviors I may accidentally display if I chose not to disabuse her of the notion that I feared men. Truthfully right now I feared everything, but what I feared the most were the shadows of Coursers at my back.

"I…think I can manage." I looked down.

"Sturges is one of the most professional men I know, you have nothing to fear from him." Denali said gently. "But if it doesn't work out, again, talk to me or to Preston and we'll reevaluate." She glanced out the window. "It's getting late, Preston, can you introduce Annette here to Valeria and Marie? They'll get you settled in." She told me. "Tomorrow will be soon enough to get you started."

"Come back here when you're done, Preston." She told the man behind me, "I have some concerns about the current provisioner's route between Greentop and Finch. She _will_ insist on going right through Forged territory, even though I told her to go around, _even if_ it takes longer."

"Sure thing, General." He replied, gesturing me towards the door. "I also need to talk to you about one of our settlements that's sent word."

I saw her flinch as I turned away. I wondered what that was all about as I walked to the door.

"Oh, hey, Annette?"

I turned back at the sound of Deacon's voice. "Yes?"

"I was wondering if you had a Geiger counter."

I glanced from him back to Denali, who was watching me with close attention.

"No, should I…should I get one?"

He smiled at me disarmingly. "Only if you want to. Rest well."


	2. Part 2

I, Synth pt. 2

* * *

Marie and Valeria were both out when Preston led me to the door of another of the houses and gestured me inside. He looked, and I noticed that my ability to read expressions had improved when the word 'discomfited' came to my mind as a description for the arrangement of his facial features.

"Forgot what time it was." He laughed, at himself, I realized, and scratched under the brim of his hat. "They'd both be at work."

He shifted uncomfortably as I looked at him. I wondered at his discomfort, running his recent interactions through my mind.

Ah, he had been given two tasks. He found the one given by the General to be very important, but was also obligated to complete his first task before returning. Given that his initial supposition of the two women being in residence was incorrect he would be delayed in completing his second task by the need to track them down and introduce me to them, also interrupting them in their tasks and perhaps causing further delays.

"Will they be upset if they come back to find they have a new…ah…roommate?" I ventured tentatively.

"What?" He appeared startled out of his own thoughts. "Oh. No, I don't think so."

Did it really matter if I met them now or later? I nodded. "Please, allow me to settle in. I will explain the circumstances when they return." Now he would be able to complete his second task while I finished the first. It wasn't unheard of. I had performed the same service for my fellow synths before when their tasks were too onerous to complete in the time allotted.

I knew I had deduced correctly when he appeared relieved. "We'll do that then. But first…" He gestured me down the hall and I duly followed. "Bedrooms are in here." He didn't glance inside. Perhaps it was a matter of respecting personal privacy. "Just choose whichever bed looks to be unoccupied." He looked at me then with a small smile. "We always have spares."

"Thank you." I replied, ducking my head. "You have been very helpful."

"Not a problem." He rubbed under the brim of his hat again and I surmised that it was similar to my own habit of playing with my hair. "I hope you'll feel welcome here, Annette."

"I think that I already do." I tried a smile and he smiled back, resettling his hat and touching the brim before moving past me, being careful not to touch in the close confines of the hallway. I listened for the click of the shutting door before allowing myself to sag against the wall. I brushed a hand over my forehead and noticed that it shook.

A few moments were all I would allow myself to regroup before I straightened and tried to will the shaking from my limbs. It didn't work as well as I had hoped.

"You are fine, Annette." I whispered to myself, trying to accustom myself to my own name. "You are functioning within acceptable parameters." For some reason the words did not feel as reassuring as they once had. I tottered into one of the bedrooms and blinked. Where the general's house had been comfortable clutter this room was half utter chaos and half extraordinary neatness.

Clothing was strewn across one of the beds and dangled to the floor. Empty bottles cluttered one of the tables alongside a half melted candle and a tattered old magazine. My fingers twitched with the urge to pick up and fold, sweep, and scrub. No, I shouldn't, I told myself, but still it was difficult to turn away from the mess and leave it un-neatened. The other side of the room, by contrast, was very clean. Every personal effect was arranged in such a way that told me it was deliberate, from the pillow placed precisely in the middle of the bed to the vase settled on the bureau against the wall.

I backed out of the room and went to try another doorway, pushing away the curtain that covered it.

This room was empty but for the furniture, two beds, a table and a dresser. I ventured inside and took a look around. It was obvious that some effort had been made to patch the holes in the wall and ceiling, but little else. Unoccupied, my senses told me, as I shrugged out of my pack and set it carefully on the table before seating myself on the bed. Then I lowered my face into my hands and breathed deeply. In the quiet I could hear voices outside the patched wall, some loud, some soft, but a constant verbal background to someone used to the silence of the Institute's halls.

Without looking I reached over and opened my pack, rummaging inside. My eyes widened when my fingers touched the contours of the purified water. I pulled it out and stared at it, then looked furtively around, even though I knew no one was there. What would Preston think if he realized I had had water all along but didn't have the sense to drink it, that I hadn't realized what thirst even felt like? Hurriedly I stuffed it back in the bottom of my pack and took out the bottle caps instead, shoving them in my pocket.

The next thing that came to my hand was the tato. I looked at it and thought about hunger. Was I hungry? Should I eat it? The thought was singularly unappealing so I just set the tato on top of the dresser. Maybe I'd figure out what to do with it later.

That was it, all I had besides the clothes on my back and the pistol at my hip. I squirmed, uncomfortable as the weapon dug into my leg. I unholstered it and set it on the small table next to the bed. My memories told me that it was best never to be too far from a weapon, no matter how safe or comfortable one felt. I was far from safe and it wouldn't do to get comfortable, I reminded myself. I was an enemy to these people and I had no illusions as to what they would do if they found out my true nature and purpose.

No matter how kind and welcoming they were.

I felt the shadows of the coursers looking over my shoulder, nodding agreement. I wanted to ask them what my orders were. The scientist had told me they'd been implanted but they must have required some trigger or circumstance that hadn't been met. I found myself hating the uncertainty, then felt surprised at yet another unfamiliar emotion, hatred. Too much, I thought to myself, lying back on the mattress then curling up on my side. It was all too much to take in.

I found myself falling unexpectedly into down time.

* * *

Raised voices roused me from an unsettling dream of standing alone in a landscape with no idea in which direction I needed to go and the urgent feeling that I was needed somewhere desperately. Reflexively I sat up and reached for the pistol on my table only to stop midway when someone loomed in the doorway.

"Hi, you must be the new girl!"

I blinked and forced my fingers to relax, moving my hand carefully back to my side.

"See, I told you they'd put her with us!" The woman announced cheerfully. "Why didn't you turn on the lights?" She hit a switch on the wall and the light overhead blinded me. It must have turned to night while I was in down time. No, sleep. The human-born called it sleep.

I blinked again and sat up, squinting to make out details.

"You blinded her, Valeria." Chided a second voice. "Honestly, you need to think before you act." This voice was lower, with an edge to it that was completely absent in Valeria's bright tones. This would be Marie?

"She's fine." Exclaimed Valeria as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. "See, she's getting up."

"If I wanted a play-by-play I'd ask for one." Marie growled. "And if you'd move I'd like to get changed before we eat."

"It's just a little blood." Valeria shrugged. I could make her out now. She was a tall girl with well-built arms that suggested she did a lot of heavy lifting. Her dark blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore a set of coveralls over what may have once been a white tank top.

"A little blood I'd like to wash off, thank you. Move." Marie came into view now. She wore a white coat and her dark hair was cropped short against her head. She gave me an unimpressed once over before disappearing into the room across the way, shoving past a grinning Valeria.

"Don't mind her. She loosens up once she gets a few drinks in her. Or more than a few." She tossed her ponytail. "Maybe a dozen." She strode forward the few steps from the door to the bed and thrust out her hand. I took it and she would nearly have crushed my fingers in her strong grip were I not what I was. "I'm Valeria, carpenter. Nice to see a new face. How are you with a hammer?"

Should I answer the question or give her my name? I must have taken too long to answer because she leaned towards me, "Hey, you really awake?"

"Yes, I apologize." I stammered. "I am Annette, um, mechanic."

"So, pretty good with a hammer, then." She gave my hand one last pump then released it. "Good. We already have enough farmers."

And if I had been a farmer would they have turned me away? I thought of the General's kind eyes and decided that no, they wouldn't have.

Valeria hitched a thumb over her shoulder. "And miss grumpy boots in there is Marie, doctor."

"I heard that." Marie called from the next room.

"I know. That's why I said it." Valeria called back.

Marie emerged a moment later, dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. "Don't overwhelm the poor thing. You saw what happened when she came through the gate."

I goggled. "Did, did everyone see that?"

Marie grinned without humor, "We're a small community. Whoever didn't see it heard about it, probably from Hamilton. I've never met a bartender who could keep his mouth shut."

Marie stepped forward, extending her hand, I put mine out to meet it but was surprised when she gripped my chin instead, looking into my eyes and turning my head from side to side. I stared at her, too shocked to do anything else. I rolled my eyes to Valeria, but she was watching placidly, a small smile on her lips. "You shouldn't talk about Hamilton's mouth without knowing what it's capable of."

Marie made a disgusted sound and released my chin. I tried not to shrink back, in case she decided to go for a different body part next. But she just clucked her tongue and set her hands on her hips." You probably fainted…" She began.

"I didn't…"I began to protest.

"Because you need to eat." She eyed the tato on my dresser and sneered. "I can't blame you for not wanting to eat that, but the rads aside, you needed the nourishment." She huffed, "Trust the men not to feed you." She turned and made for the door. "Come on."

I stared at Valeria. She shrugged expressively. "Doctor's orders."

I had orders. I scrambled to my feet when Marie shouted from the common room, repeating her orders and adding 'get a move on' for good measure. I was aware of Valeria behind me, but I still shied away when she grabbed my hand and slapped my pistol into it.

I stared at her and she smiled sadly. "Never completely safe, not even at dinner time."

* * *

Too many people, too many voices. I wanted to clap my hands over my ears and retreat to the quietest spot I could find. On top of the voices there was music playing from the radio, interspersed with occasional uncertain chatter from the DJ named Travis. But everyone else seemed at ease so I forced myself to seem relaxed, even though I may have trailed a little too close to Marie for her comfort.

As we walked she pointed out Sanctuary's various amenities. "That's the workshop. If you're a mechanic you'll probably need to know that. That's the general store, don't mind the ghoul, he's harmless." And so on.

I had already deduced that she was strong, no nonsense and no one would dare get in her way when she made for the communal dining area. She glanced back at me to make sure I was there, and seemed a little startled to find me so close behind her. I hoped she thought it was because I was hungry. Her next words affirmed that thought.

"They're not going to run out of food."

"Yeah, not anymore." Valeria quipped. "I hope you like radroach."

We were going to eat insects? My eyes widened as I joined the line with the two other women.

Marie shot Valeria a scathing look. "If you bothered to check the menu you'd know we were having mirelurk tonight." She turned slightly to address me. "The communal meals, morning, mid-day and night are free for all. If you want a snack or something not on the menu you'll have to pay for it."

I thought of my handful of bottlecaps. In the Institute everything we needed was provided to us. I had worn the clothes they gave me and spent my down time in the bed provided. The idea of paying for things would never have occurred to me then but the memories given to me agreed with Marie's description.

She continued. "Water's also free, alcohol or Nuka Cola is not. If you get hurt because of an on the job accident, me or Doc Anderson will patch you up, but if you do something stupid and we need to fix you we _will_ charge for that." Marie eyed my leather coat as we joined the line leading to the kitchen. "The General keeps a store of clothing and you can help yourself to one change of clothes. If you want something special you'll have to see Ann and she charges. Security are the only ones provided with armor."

I nodded to show I understood. I could smell the cooking mirelurk now, and wondered if I was correctly interpreting the rumbling coming from my midsection as hunger.

"The General does supply you with a wage so you can treat yourself things from time to time, but try not to throw it away on useless things like some people." This said as she slanted a look at Valeria.

"Hey, I like my useless things." The woman replied comfortably as we reached the front of the line. "Good evening, Hamilton." She smiled warmly at the bartender with the rusty red hair.

"Hello gorgeous." He replied. "What'll it be?"

Marie huffed and I glanced at her but couldn't tell what had upset her.

Valeria leaned on the counter. "Any recommendations?"

"I thought there was a set menu." I whispered to Marie.

She rolled her eyes. "There is."

"Oh lord, we _had_ to get behind Valeria." Someone at the back of the line groaned.

"Hush, I think it's cute." Someone else replied.

Valeria and Hamilton ignored them. I watched with interest. I had never seen a human interaction quite like this before.

"Well, I think I can whip up something special for you." Hamilton smiled, turning to the stove behind him.

"For me? You really shouldn't go through the trouble." I looked at her in surprise as she practically cooed.

Someone else behind us made retching noises. I turned, alarmed, but the person was laughing as well. Pretending sickness? For what reason?

Hamilton turned back around with a flourish, presenting a plate that looked no different from any of the others he had produced. "One special, for a special lady."

"How much do I owe you?"

Didn't Marie just say the meal was free? I thought of the handful of bottlecaps in my pocket, wondering if there would be enough.

"On the house." Hamilton replied. Their hands seemed to caress as she accepted the plate from him.

"I guess I'll have to figure out a way to pay you back later." She murmured softly, though not too softly that those in the line behind her couldn't hear, and he grinned.

"Ahem!" Marie said loudly. "Some people are malnourished over here."

"Later." Valeria said again, turning and walking away with a swagger in her step. Hamilton watched her appreciatively.

"Man, I love to watch that woman walk away." He grinned. A man behind us burst into laughter and I turned to see Deacon walking up, the General at his side, both smiling.

"The line." The General reminded Hamilton, raising an eyebrow though laughter still lingered around the corners of her mouth.

"Mirelurk steak and salsa." Deacon agreed, making appreciative noises. "My fave."

Hamilton hurried to put more plates together, sliding them in front of Marie and myself. I took mine tentatively and followed the other woman to a table in the corner where Valeria waited.

"They do that on purpose." She grumped as we wove in between the various chairs and tables, avoiding feet and elbows. "Every time."

"Some of the others seemed to find it…um…entertaining?" I ventured.

"And I just find it annoying. If they need to make entertainment for themselves they should keep it to the privacy of their own quarters." She shook her head. "Or at least _his_ quarters."

Valeria laughed, catching the end of Marie's comment. "We like having our own spaces." She explained as we sat. "Besides, he snores horribly."

Marie rolled her eyes again, pulling her plate close and attacking it with knife and fork. I tried to watch her unobtrusively. Food paste did not require such utensils and I wanted to make sure my implanted memories were correct before I acted upon them. They seemed right so I followed her lead, my eyes widening as I placed the first bite on my tongue.

Oh. Oh, my.

I chewed carefully and swallowed before taking another bite.

"Good, yeah?" Valeria asked me, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she watched me enjoy the dish. "Ham's a great cook."

"It is very good." I agreed, taking another careful mouthful.

Marie, meanwhile, had already finished her plate. I hadn't even seen her eat other than the first few bites. She placed her utensils on her plate and pushed it towards the center of the table. "Over there is Sturges." She said, and I realized that she had merely paused in introducing me to the points of interest in the settlement. I followed her gestures with my eyes as she pointed more people out. "Jun Long."

"A bit of a downer, but I can't help but think he'd be different if he didn't have so much on his head." Valeria contributed. "Like his wife, the queen bitch."

"Marcy." Marie corrected her, or at least I thought she was until she continued, "Wishes she were the queen bitch. She tries _really_ hard at it."

I blinked at the universal dislike. Valeria noticed my discomfort. "Believe me, once you encounter her in full spate you won't disagree."

I looked at the woman in question out of the corner of my eye. She certainly did have an unpleasant expression on her face, sitting there in the corner pretending like no one else existed.

"Granted," Marie continued, "She has her reasons."

"We all have reasons." Valeria spoke now, her voice low. "We all have our own problems and our own losses. Most of us don't use it as an excuse to make everyone else miserable." She seemed to catch herself and looked down at her plate, pushing what remained of her salsa in patterns along the rim. When she looked up again her cheer seemed to resurface. "Did you miss anyone?"

"Steve and Rosalie are manning the walls tonight." Marie gestured. "And Joshua, our provisioner, is on the road. I think that's everyone. Any questions?"

"I noticed you mentioned a… a ghoul?" I ventured. My memories told me that ghouls were usually unwelcome and unreliable. Oddly I found myself having a fellow feeling for them.

"Do you have a problem with ghouls?" Marie asked, continuing before I could answer. "If you do, keep it to yourself. The General…" She seemed to search for a way to explain. "Inclusive," She nodded to herself, satisfied. "She runs inclusive settlements. That includes ghouls; Steve's a ghoul, by the way, and robots, like Codsworth, who's around somewhere. She even brought a synth here with her a while back."

"A synth?" I winced at the sound of my own voice squeaking. Fortunately I had finished eating, so I wasn't in danger of choking.

"Nick Valentine." Valeria agreed. "He's a sweetheart."

Marie gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I didn't have occasion to talk to him. But he's not like one of those synths everyone talks about, the human-type ones, you know."

Valeria nodded in agreement. "The ones that replace your neighbors in the night."

I must have paled because Valeria reached across the table to pat my hand. "Don't look so worried. We're very close knit here, anyone gets replaced we'll know about it."

"Okay." I whispered. Silence fell around our table, as all three of us looked into our own thoughts. The sounds the others were making surged and washed over our little island and I looked unseeing out into the darkness surrounding the well-lit dining area.

The talk of human type synths had unsettled me, but what disturbed me just as much was Valeria and Marie's confident assertions that they'd _know_ if a synth was in their midst.

And how very wrong they were.

I picked up my fork and twisted it through my fingers.

"We've scared you."

I shrugged. "A lot of things scare me." I found myself saying.

"At least you admit it." Valeria chuckled.

A hissing and clicking sound came out of the darkness, coming closer. I glanced to see if anyone else had noticed. If they did they paid it no mind, and a moment later a Mr. Handy appeared, first the glow of his propulsion system, then the gleam of the lights on his metallic surface. He buzzed and clanked past us and I turned to follow his progress until he was hovering beside the table the general and Deacon occupied.

"Mum," He exclaimed in an unfamiliar accent. "You've delayed your trip."

"Just until morning, Codsworth." She replied, toying with the beer on the table before her. "We're starting out at full light." Her expression was pensive.

"Do be careful, mum."

Deacon stretched and laced his fingers behind his head. He was smiling where the general was not. "When are we anything but?"

"Oh, sir, shall I catalogue the number of injuries you have incurred on previous trips?" The robot almost sounded snide.

"But we still came back." Deacon pointed out.

The general looked away.

"Time to hit the bunk." Valeria stood, bringing my attention back to our table. She stretched before reaching down and picking up the dirty plates.

"Yours, or Hamilton's?" Marie sneered.

"What do _you_ think?" She snickered. "I'm on dishwashing duty tonight." She explained to me when I made a small sound of protest that she was taking my plate as well.

"She volunteers, if you can believe it. You'll have your own turn."

"To be near Hamilton?" I surmised before blushing as she laughed at me.

"You know it, sweetie." She winked, confirming that I had guessed right. "You, though, should get some sleep. Breakfast then work in the morning."

I pushed my chair back and stood, following Marie as she led the way back to our rooms.

Marie disappeared into her room the moment we reached the house, leaving me to my own devices as I walked into my own room and sat on the bed.

I put a hand over my stomach, which felt oddly full. It was a peculiar sensation. I stood back up and unwound the scarf from around my throat, folding it and laying it carefully on top of the dresser. I had never undressed for down time before so I felt uncomfortable taking off my coat and boots and reluctant when I set my pistol on the table.

Vulnerable, I decided. I felt very vulnerable laying there, still hearing voices outside though they grew fainter as time passed.

I could hear the wind outside my window, along with other assorted sounds that my implanted memories identified for me as harmless. To pass the time I committed all the names and faces Marie had thrown at me to memory, and formed a mental map of Sanctuary, or at least the parts of it I had seen. This occupied my attention so well that I didn't even realize when downtime took me.

* * *

 _N7-48, you have not performed your designated tasks._

I shot up from my mattress. The waking protocol had somehow failed.

 _N7-48, you will report immediately to Dr. Ayo for evaluation._

I didn't want to lose who I was. I stood in the empty room, my soft slippers brushing against the smooth, clean floor, searching for the door. There had to be somewhere I could go, something I could do. "It's not my fault, the programming failed." I protested.

 _N7-48, you will report immediately to Dr. Ayo for evaluation._

"I will go now. I will fulfill my designated tasks!"

 _N7-48, you are not performing within acceptable parameters._

I gasped. Where was the door?

 _N7-48, you are not performing within acceptable parameters._

"I don't want to lose who I am." I cried, as I did so I noticed a line of light on the far wall. The door!

I raced to it, the soft institute slippers I had been wearing turning tall and hard-soled. I pulled the broken wooden door open and rushed through into the sunlight. Tall grass brushed my fingers as I turned and looked back.

The door slammed shut. On it was painted a lantern.

I woke with a snap, scrabbling across the mattress with clawed fingers until I hit the floor. Grabbing my discarded boots I clutched them to myself and tried to calm my breathing.

A soft noise in the hall outside my room caught my attention and I turned my head so sharply it felt like something popped in my neck. Marie stood there. She glanced at me, then away as though my state embarrassed her.

"Get dressed, it's time for breakfast." Was all she said as she gently closed the curtain across my door.

I dropped my boots and buried my face in my hands, but only for a moment. She had given me a task to do.

Marie was waiting in the common room when I emerged a few minutes later. My face felt odd, hot and tight. I didn't know why it felt like that, but I hated the sensation.

She looked to me from where she had been standing at the window. "Throw some water on your face, it'll make you feel better." She nodded at the bathroom.

I moved to comply only to pause a moment later when she added softly, "We all have nightmares."

I nodded in thanks and went to wash my face.


	3. Part 3

I, Synth: part 3

* * *

The air felt a little different with the General gone.

It was a very strange thing to notice, but I couldn't help but do so.

She must have left before breakfast, I thought as I spooned up a bowl of cooked ground razorgrain, muttfruit and brahmin milk. If there was anything I was immediately enjoying about being in the Commonwealth it was having the ability to eat. The people of the Institute didn't seem to enjoy it as much as these people seemed to. Perhaps it was the textures, I thought, feeling the grains grind between my teeth, that made the difference.

My spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl as I tried to get every last morsel. Being hungry was a very awkward state of being, I noted and was glad that it hadn't lasted very long. I had just set the bowl down when Valeria bounded up, looking well-rested and very content.

"Morning!" She nodded at my empty bowl. "You good?"

I took that as a question as to whether I was finished with my meal and nodded. She snagged my bowl and trotted over to the sink where she deposited it for whoever was on dish duty that morning to wash. "Preston told me to take you over to meet Sturges when you were ready." She explained.

"Have you eaten?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm an early-riser." She poked my shoulder. "C'mon, up and at 'em."

I glanced over at Marie, who was poking at her breakfast with bleary eyes and sipping at a cup of coffee. She hadn't said a word since we left the house aside from a curt 'thank you' to the woman serving breakfast. Margaret, I reminded myself.

"She's fine." Valeria shrugged.

I nodded and stood up, straightening my coat. She eyed it as we walked. "You going to be okay to work in that?"

I tugged some more, self-consciously. "It's all I have," I replied softly.

She smiled and grabbed my shoulders, ignoring my squeak of protest. "Detour!" She announced, steering me towards one of the other buildings.

"Isn't Sturges expecting us?" I asked as I was propelled along, stumbling at the pace but kept upright by her steel grip on my shoulders.

"He can wait." She replied, her mouth practically on my ear as she freed a hand to slide open the door. "Here we are. Pick your poison."

I stumbled inside, blinking in an attempt to accustom my eyes to the dim lights. The room was full of shelves and cabinets, most, if not all, full of…things. I took the few steps required to take me into the center of the room and turned in place, taking in the haphazard organization.

"You want the clothes shelves." Valeria noted helpfully, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe. "They're to your left."

They really were hard to miss. I couldn't help but be impressed by the variety of textures and colors. In the Institute everything was, well, institutionalized. There was some variety in uniform, but usually only in length or color. I had certainly seen nothing like the soft pink fabric my fingers brushed over lingeringly. I picked up the item in question and shook it out. It was a soft, rose-colored dress with a small pattern of flowers. It was completely inappropriate for any type of work, I thought wistfully.

I folded the dress again, carefully making sure it matched the original configuration, and replaced it on the shelf before stepping back.

"Labels would help." I murmured to myself.

Behind me Valeria laughed. "You should suggest that. Or, hell, if you have time to do it yourself, go ahead. I'm sure everyone would appreciate it." She stepped up beside me, her eyes scanning the shelves. "I think something like this would do." She said finally, selecting a blue outfit. She picked it up, revealing it to be a mechanic's jumpsuit of sorts, and held it to my shoulders. "A little large. Would you be okay working in something like this?"

"It will be fine." I replied, looking down to compare.

She nodded. "Go ahead and change. I'll see if I can scrounge up a tool belt for you in the meantime."

I duly stripped down, making sure to neatly fold my garments and pile them on the floor beside me.

"Well, you're certainly not shy," Valeria said in a surprised voice when she turned from where she had been rummaging in a nearby crate.

I looked down again, considering that I was now clad only in my undergarments, and wondered if I had made a misstep. The memories implanted hadn't covered everything, after all. I searched them quickly for an appropriate response. "Privacy was not something I had a lot of in the past." I replied finally, as I pulled on the tank that went under the jumpsuit, a statement that had the benefit of being completely true. My fellow synths and I shared everything, including bathing facilities, and while I had certainly _noticed_ our varying anatomy it hadn't been something particularly concerning. Modesty was not a concept the human born had instilled in us, at least among ourselves.

She nodded, taking my explanation without question, waiting until I had finished dressing and stepped back into my boots before handing me the tool belt she had found. I buckled it around my waist and twisted it around to settle it comfortably atop my hips.

"There," Valeria proclaimed, "Now you look like a mechanic."

I gave her a small smile before picking up my neatly folded coat and discarded clothes.

"Here, hand me those and I'll get them cleaned up for you next time you want them." Valeria held out her hands expectantly.

"You really don't need to do that." I protested, clutching the garments to my chest. They weren't much but they were _mine_ and I was reluctant to give them up even for a short while. "You and Marie have done so much for me already."

"Really," She said gently, as though she were afraid I would bolt. "The laundry area is on my way. I'll make sure they get back to your room when I pick up my own stuff." She held out her hands again. "It will be fine. They'll be waiting for you when you get back."

Reluctantly I let her take my clothes.

"Did you empty the pockets?"

I went pale. I hadn't. All my caps were still in my coat pocket. I rummaged through the clothes in Valeria's arms, finally locating them and transferring them into the pocket of the jumpsuit.

"All set, then?" She asked cheerfully. I nodded, my face feeling hot now as she led me out of the storehouse. I carefully closed the door as we left and followed her jaunty stride in silence. "We should find Sturges near the workshop. He's always tinkering with something or other." She called back to me.

I nodded, looking for the man Marie had pointed out to me the night before. He was wearing overalls, a tool belt and a dark pompadour hairstyle, if I recalled correctly. It took a few turns around the yellow house in the center of the settlement before we finally found him. He was carefully tapping on something on the wall of the house, his face set in an expression of dissatisfied concentration.

"Hey, Sturges!" Valeria called out, waving her free hand at him.

"What? I'm busy." He replied curtly, not looking round at her.

"Too busy to meet your new mechanic?" She asked him sweetly.

Now he turned, giving Valeria a long look before giving me an even longer once over. His dark eyes were unreadable and I fought not to fidget under his scrutiny. Finally he released a restrained smile and thrust his hand out at me. I fought back the tiniest flinch, but apparently not well enough because he dropped his hand and gave me an almost embarrassed look. "Sorry. You must be Annette. The General told me to expect you." He gave me another long look. "Name's Sturges. I take care of fixin' most things around the place. Truth be told I've been finding myself stretched a bit thin keepin' everything in good running order now that we're growing."

"I hope that I'll be able to help." I offered tentatively.

"I'm sure we can find somethin' for you to take a turn at. Can always use another set of hands, no matter their skill level. On the job learning's fine as long as you don't break more than you mend." He clapped his own large and calloused hands together. "Now that we've got the introductions over, how about you tell me what you think is wrong with this?" Sturges stepped back so I could get a look at what he had been working on.

I shot his a cautious look and stepped nearer, examining the plate in the wall. "It looks like a ventilation outlet."

"That's right." He nodded as I glanced at him.

I looked back. "The mechanism's jammed. I would guess because it hasn't been maintained in over two hundred years. Can I have a pry bar?"

"Well, then. I'll just leave the two of you to it." Valeria suddenly spoke up. I had honestly forgotten she was there. "See you tonight, Annette." She called over her shoulder as she walked away.

"Until later." I called back. Sturges slapped a small pry bar in my open palm and I settled down to my task.

* * *

Evening had fallen before Sturges gave his verdict. In the meantime I had fixed the ventilation fan, rerouted some power lines to a more efficient configuration and fixed a malfunctioning turret on the wall, all under his watchful eye. I had the feeling that he was seeing what I would do, and had been prepared to step in if it seemed anything I was doing was about to blow up in my face.

"Well, you sure have some skill." He pronounced. "Willing to turn your hand to anything even if you don't quite understand how it works."

I flushed and resettled my belt, which had acquired some new tools that made it a comforting weight on my hipbones.

"Good job." He told me and I had to try hard to cover my surprise.

No one had ever praised my work before. I was just expected to do it and do it well. Anything less and I would be required to report to evaluation in order to address any inefficiencies in my programming. It was a pleasant feeling to be acknowledged. "Thank you." I murmured.

"No need to thank me for tellin' the truth." He smiled crookedly. "Tomorrow I think you'll be okay to work on your own. Just give me a holler if you come across anything beyond you. You get me?"

I nodded to show that I understood.

"Right then." He rolled his shoulders. "Long day, time for food."

Someone had run for food at midday, bringing those of us working in the area a small meal easily eaten with no utensils needed other than our hands. We had discarded the wooden skewers in a nearby fire barrel and simply went back to work afterwards.

I fell in behind Sturges as we walked towards the dining area and he shot me a questioning look before slowing his step until he walked beside me. "Hard to talk to someone when they're walkin' behind you." He told me. "We do a rotation, three days on, one day off. Every other off day you're expected to report for a duty roster. Cooking, washing dishes, tending the brahmin, that sort of thing. You'll find the duty roster on the building near the General's place. Just fill your name in on an empty spot and make sure you show up for your day." He paused. "You can read and write?"

"I can." I replied.

"Makes things easier, then. One of the duty roster positions is teaching some of the others if you're of a mind. No shame in not knowing how, I say, but definitely easier to get around if you can at least read the words on a map and write your own name." He adjusted the lay of the goggles hanging around his neck. "I'll leave you here, then. See you in the morning."

I waved in farewell and looked for Valeria, who waved at me from one of the tables, before taking my place in the food line.

* * *

I quickly fell into the routines of Sanctuary. It wasn't difficult. I was good at routine. Every morning of my three day rotation I would show up at the workshop and Sturges would give me my tasks for the day. If I finished early no one minded if I took extra tasks or pitched in somewhere else, or even if I chose to sit and enjoy the sun. Every other off day I would pick a different task to try, from mucking to teaching, though after my one stint in the laundry I was politely asked to not volunteer there again. I had left, apologizing profusely.

After a while the others began approaching me with their little gadgets, not willing to ask Sturges to take a look at them. I, it seemed, was a safer choice, or at least a more willing one. At first I had fixed the items for free, until Marie chastised me about letting people take advantage when she found me working on an alarm clock late into the night at the little table in the common room Valeria had set aside for my use. I still felt a little uncomfortable asking for compensation, but most seemed willing to pay, and if they were not they simply took their broken item and left. I earned a few extra caps that way and felt proud of myself for accumulating a nice little stockpile.

I liked my little table at the window that overlooked the street to take advantage of the natural light. I could sit there and watch the population and the roving traders pass by as I spent hours tinkering on my free days.

"You work too much." Valeria chided me, after she found me sitting there on my third free day.

I smiled at her, the expression coming much more naturally now. "I find it relaxing. Really." I added at her sound of disbelief. "I like taking things apart and putting them back together."

She shook her head. "Better you than me. Give me a hammer and nails any day. I don't even know what to call half the tools you use."

Marie, who was sitting on the couch reading a medical journal, just shook her head at the two of us.

Valeria made a rude noise at her. "You're even worse."

"You'll thank me the next time you come in with a nail in your leg."

"That happened _one time_." Valeria huffed. "I'm out." She stomped out the door.

I had just turned back to the desk fan I was dissecting when Marie slammed her journal down on the couch and stalked out the door.

Everyone seemed to be in a terrible mood and I wondered why as I looked out the window to see her stalk by. A few others were out and about, enjoying their free time or returning from scavenging forays. I stood and found my back had stiffened from being still for too long. I stretched and headed to the door just as I heard an unfamiliar sound. The cloudless sky took on a sickly yellow tint as I looked up in apprehension. The sound came again, like static thunder.

"Radstorm incoming." Someone called.

The door slammed open and Marie hurried back inside. "Do you have any Rad-x?" She asked then, before waiting for an answer, stabbed me in the arm with a long needle.

"Ah!" I protested.

"Don't be a baby, it'll stop hurting in a second." She chided me before dosing herself, hissing through her teeth as the solution no doubt burned through her veins as it did mine. "Better an ounce of prevention than wasting radaway later."

I grimaced and rubbed my arm, moving to the window to watch as the sun disappeared in a sickly yellow electrically charged haze. Marie pulled me away. "You from a vault or something?" She snapped, "Stay away from the windows." She rubbed her own arms, but more like she was cold than anything else. "I should have known there was a storm incoming. Everyone was acting oddly." With that she plopped back down and took up her journal again, though I noticed she flinched slightly at each new crack of thunder.

Despite her advice I sidled closer to the window and peered out, before she tugged me away I had seen something moving in the haze. "Marie." I whispered, "Someone's out there."

"Another idiot I'll have to dose later." She snarled. "Let 'em get radiation poisoning if they're so keen. No skin off _my_ nose if they become a ghoul."

Thunder hid the sound of gunfire at first. Then I heard the yelling. I felt for the gun at my hip. "Marie." I said, keeping my voice really low, "I don't think they're worried about that." My memories were providing me with information I really did not want to know right now as the siren started to scream warning.

"Shit!" She reached for her own gun then leapt to her feet. "You saying we got ferals?"

"I really wish I wasn't." I whispered, leaning around the side of the windowsill. I watched the forms resolve themselves out of the fog. I could do this, I told myself sternly as I took aim at the mindless form that emerged and pulled the trigger.

The next hour passed in a yellow haze of gunfire and turrets, yells and cries of pain. Marie and I covered each other's backs as we took turns firing at the shambling forms, using the windows for protection against the few that tried to throw themselves at us. I had upturned my table, throwing parts and tools everywhere, but providing us an extra barricade.

"I've got to get out there." Marie finally yelled above the sirens. "We've got wounded."

"I'll cover you." I agreed as she grabbed her kit and rushed out the door. I had never admired her so much as at that moment, when she threw herself into the storm and the danger of the ferals just in case her skills were needed.

Fortunately it was almost over. A few stragglers were being chased down but the radioactive fog was hindering the turrets' tracking abilities. I vowed to myself as I stood over Marie while she tended to the first casualty that the first thing I would do after this was over would be to address that issue.

"Okay, Bradley." She was murmuring. "You're going to be fine. Annette, hold the bandages."

I spared a hand for the proffered roll of cloth, keeping the gun in my other hand trained on the fog still surrounding us, my eyes roving for movement.

"Don't shoot anyone by accident." Marie told me. "I don't need to add bullet wounds to my 'things to do' list today." She turned her attention back to her patient. "Okay, Bradley, can you walk? Good. Okay. Yeah, you've got it. Now you head to the infirmary and we'll finish getting you fixed up in a bit, okay?"

"Okay, Doc." He mumbled, limping in the direction of the infirmary in a dazed manner.

The howl of the siren faded away as we stepped over ghoul corpses, searching for survivors. The attack was over, but for us the long day was just beginning.

* * *

It was a miracle no one had died, I thought to myself as I sat numbly in the grass near the entrance to the infirmary. The mere fact impressed on me like nothing else how _tough_ the people of the Commonwealth had to be. Certainly there was no end to injuries but no one had actually died. I looked up as a bowl of steaming soup was thrust at me and managed to muster a smile for Hamilton, who was sporting a bloodied bandage above his eye, and a nod of thanks as I accepted it. The warmth cradled between my hands was comforting and as I took my first sip I realized that I was famished.

How many meals had I missed? Two, three? My natural timekeeping abilities seemed to have been dulled with fatigue. The best I could do was to tell that the long night had passed along with the storm and it was now morning.

I finished the soup and struggled to my feet, looking over to where Valeria was gently stroking Hamilton's cheek beneath the rough bandage. Marie was still in the infirmary, along with Doc Anderson. Both had been working non-stop since before night had fallen. I straightened my shoulders with an effort and found myself almost falling over. I was so tired I _ached_ but I had a job to do as well.

I found Sturges at the first line of turrets. Half were smoking, of no use to anyone until they could be repaired. He was already elbow deep in the workings of the first one so I took a deep breath and started repairing the next.

* * *

"Annette?"

"Infrared." I murmured.

"Annette?" I felt someone shake my shoulders. "Annette, what the hell are you still doing out here?"

"Upgrade, negate interference. Operating…parameters." I mumbled. "Acceptable." No, that wasn't right. There was an order to things and I'd messed them up. But I could fix it. I felt around on my tool belt.

"Damn, she's dead on her feet." Someone exclaimed.

"No." No one had died. But they'd been hurt. If I'd thought of doing this upgrade before the attack that might never have happened at all. "Just a tweak." I felt the tool drop from my numb fingers and opened my eyes to stare at them dumbly.

"You've done enough, Annette." Someone else said gently, putting an arm around my waist as I swayed on my feet. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"Task not done."

"You've fixed them all." The gentle voice corrected me. "Time to rest."

I felt myself being guided through grass, across pavement, stumbling over every other obstacle in my path, but I just couldn't keep my eyes open. The gentle hands guided me up a few steps and through a hallway, then down onto a mattress. Even though it wasn't particularly soft at that moment it felt like I had landed on a cloud. Even so it took me a few moments to fall asleep, just long enough to feel someone pull a blanket over me and smooth my hair. The darkness of downtime overwhelmed me seconds later.

I was too tired even to dream.

* * *

"Welcome back to the land of the living." Valeria greeted me when I stumbled out of my room an interminable time later.

"How long?"

"Were you asleep?" The woman completed my question, thrusting a cup of coffee in my hands. "About twelve hours. Marie was livid. 'I didn't keep her alive through the firefight just to have her work herself to death!'," She mimicked.

"I seem to remember events a little differently." I replied, rubbing at my forehead and collapsing into one of the worn arm chairs. I took a sip of my coffee and revived a little bit.

"Doubtless." Valeria agreed. "You really should've known when to stop." She held up a hand, even though I made no move to interrupt. "On the other hand, Sturges was practically glowing when he saw the improvements you made to the turrets you repaired. He's already started making the same adjustments to the others. So…" She drawled out the word. "Good work."

"Were you injured?" I asked her, looking her up and down.

"Not a scratch. I was up a ladder when the attack hit. I kicked it away so they couldn't climb up and spent the whole time taking pot shots. Took a while for someone to notice me afterwards and get me down." She spread her arms, inviting further inspection. "You got me worried when you didn't show up for dinner, or bed, or breakfast." She continued, accusingly.

"You went looking for me?"

"The General found you." She replied. "Brought you back herself."

I thought I remembered a gentle voice and even gentler hands guiding me home. "She came back?"

"Yeah, and looking a little the worse for wear." Valeria confirmed. "Right after she got you into bed she disappeared into her house for a few hours then went to talk to Sturges. Right after that she was off again."

"So she's gone."

"The General's like that. Here and gone like a thunderstorm." Valeria finished her coffee and deposited her cup in the sink. "Off to work. Those bastards managed to bust up the perimeter pretty good. A carpenter's work is never done." She stopped in the doorway. "Sturges wants to talk to you whenever you're ready."

I flinched.

"I'm sure it's nothing bad. Remember, he's still happy about the upgrades. Milk it for all you've got." She winked at me and left.

One part of me wanted to rush right out and find Sturges. The other part of me caught a whiff of stale sweat rising from my skin and decided I'd better shower first. My leather coat had been thrown over the chair Valeria had procured for my room, my boots resting on the ground in front of it. I felt a flush of gratitude to the General for making sure of my comfort even before she sought her own bed. Fortunately as it had been my off day I hadn't been wearing my working clothes, but the ones I was wearing could definitely do with a wash.

I grabbed my jumpsuit, which Anne had tailored to fit me, went into the bathroom and stripped, turning the tap and stepping into the cold water with a shudder. I had managed to fix the tap when I'd first arrived, but a cold shower was never terribly pleasant. Still, far less pleasant would have been to remain feeling as filthy as I had been, I thought as I scrubbed at the grease and dirt under my nails with some of the preciously hoarded soap.

I felt much refreshed when I stepped out and gathered my dirty clothing, dropping them off at the laundry on my way to find Sturges. I found him at the workshop near the power armor station. Mama Murphy, who, since our first encounter I had done my best to avoid, was practically twisted in her chair to look back over her shoulder.

"Isn't she a beauty?" Sturges said as I came up behind him, his voice reverential.

In the power armor station was a full set of armor. It was damaged and a little rusted, but I'd never seen one like it before. The set of T-45 with the minutemen paint sat off to the side, almost as though it were staring, too.

"That there is a genuine set of X-01 power armor. General brought her in." He paced back and forth in front of the suit, viewing it from different angles. "Pretty as a picture." He finally sighed in genuine pleasure, then sighed again, the tone completely different. "And we've got to get her fixed up."

"We?" I asked, blinking.

"Sure, I'm going to teach you everything I know about power armor, and after what you did to those turrets I'm betting you've got a few things you can teach me." He gave me a crooked smile and I found heat rising into my cheeks. "Now this here is a great suit of armor, and our job is to make her even better than great."

"The General's going to need it."

I looked over my shoulder to see Preston walking up, his face serious. He briefly clasped Mama Murphy's outstretched hand before continuing on to join Sturges and I in our contemplation of the armor.

"She's heading into some dangerous waters and is going to need the best we can give her."

I looked into his dark eyes and saw something bleak staring back.

"Then that's what we're going to do." I found myself saying.

Preston smiled.


	4. Part 4

I, Synth part 4

* * *

"…They used to call me Murphy the Madwoman."

I rolled my eyes, a habit I'd picked up from Marie, and tried to ignore the tale told behind me for the fourteenth time. I had been keeping count. And for the fourteenth time I wished that someone would move the old woman's chair away from the workshop. Mama Murphy scared me in a way I couldn't quite define. Perhaps it was the way her milky eyes seemed to stare into me as though she were looking through my synthetically created skin and organs into the synth behind them. According to some of the others she had something they called 'the sight', and that she could see the future, among other things. It wasn't very scientific so I had dismissed the claims.

But the first time I looked into those eyes I wasn't so sure.

Now, with her close proximity, I could feel my shoulders itch, an odd and unpleasant sensation. But there was no helping it. I could no more move the power armor station than I could move the old woman and her chair. My only consolation was that we were almost done modifying the X-01 and soon I could attend to my duties _away_ from here.

"Forty-eight." She said behind me, and I jerked, scraping the screwdriver I was using against the knuckles of my other hand. I twisted around, my hand clasping over the wound to staunch the blood-flow. She was staring ruminatively into the sky. "I think it was in 2248. Yes, November 7th, 48. The last time someone called that name. Oh, the trouble it caused."

Something twisted in my gut as I stood and grabbed a rag to wrap around my bleeding knuckles. I looked at Sturges, who had the enviable ability to ignore Mama Murphy's ramblings. "You better have the Doc take a look at that." He said practically, barely glancing up but still gesturing at my hand to acknowledge the wound.

I nodded and tried not to seem like I was running away, keeping my gaze turned away from the old woman's chair as I passed.

Marie clicked her tongue at me when I walked up to the infirmary, a repurposed capsule prefab that also served as a surgery, her eyes on the bloodied makeshift bandage wrapped around my hand. Before I could even explain she had me in her treatment room and the rag peeled away from my skin. "Probably did worse using that," She gestured at the oil and blood-soaked rag she had deposited on a tray, "Than if you just let the wound bleed."

"I wasn't thinking." I replied, chastened, even as the old woman's words ran repetitively through my head. Did she know? If she did, for what reason was she keeping it to herself? Well, she wasn't, was she, I thought sourly, hissing through my teeth as Marie disinfected my wound.

"I'm going to have to put in a few stitches." She told me. "You almost cut bone-deep here."

"Do what you need to do, Doc." I told her, gritting my teeth as she took my words to heart and started sewing. What did I need to do? I thought to distract myself from the pain. I hadn't felt the shadows of the Coursers in a while, but now I felt their cold attention prickling the back of my neck. I knew what a Courser would do, but I shuddered to even think of doing it myself. No, I would just avoid her as much as possible and hope that everyone else would dismiss her words as the ramblings of a madwoman. I was no murderer.

I hated that I even had to tell myself that.

"There, all done." Marie said and I looked down at the dressed wound. "Keep that dry and clean, light duty only. You don't want to pull the stiches." She shrugged. "I'll check on it from time to time, but all we really need to do is keep an eye out for infection. Oh, and don't stab yourself with any more screwdrivers."

"How did you know it was a screwdriver?" I asked curiously.

She rolled her eyes at me. "What do you take me for, an amateur? Now, get out of here."

"No charge?"

"Work related." She shook her head. "But if you don't get out of here now I'm going to start charging you for wasting my time." She didn't smile, so I took her threat seriously.

I still had a steady income from working at odd mechanical jobs as well as the salary provided, but it seemed that now that I _could_ purchase things, the more excuses I found not to. I only ate the communal meals, and made do with the clothes I had arrived in and the jumpsuit that had been provided to me, though the latter was starting to look a little more the worse for wear what with me wearing it three days out of four. Frequent washings left it soft, however, and not too smelly, I thought, sniffing discreetly at my sleeve as I made my way slowly back to the workshop.

I wished the same could be said for some of the other residents. Though there was a definite sense of community in the settlement, in my time at Sanctuary I had learned who was friendly, who was standoffish and who should not be approached at all. Marie had warned me about Marcy on my first day there, and I had found nothing in the woman to disprove her introduction. Every word she said seemed to be dripping with acid and I had learned to steer clear.

A few of the security seemed to feel there was a definite line drawn between them and those that spent most of their time inside the walls. The exception was Steve, who was the most agreeable and easy-going of the lot. Granted, he didn't smell much better than my jumpsuit after its third day of being worn in a row, being a ghoul and all, but his personality more than made up for it. I had gotten into the habit of taking my meals with him when Marie or Valeria were otherwise occupied. He was an older ghoul and had seen a lot in his years roaming, but I could sense he was happy to find a place to settle down where at last he felt welcome.

I sighed as I got back to the workshop and picked up my screwdriver, pulling out another rag from the pile and cleaning off the blood.

"No permanent damage, I take it?" Sturges asked me.

"She said it will heal." I replied, feeling embarrassed and deliberately keeping my eyes away from Mama Murphy's chair. "I just have to be careful not to pull out the stitches."

"Well, we're just about done here. All that's left is to test the seals." He nodded, casting a weather eye over me before turning back to the armor. I stood beside him as we both took in the fruits of our labor. The X-01 gleamed dully in the light of the afternoon sun, the rust patches buffed out and repaired with lead plating. I had personally wanted to paint it hot pink, but Sturges had merely looked amused and pointed out that the General had specified radiation shielding and, while the hot pink paint looked good, it wouldn't keep out any extra rads. "You want to do the honors?" He held the helmet out to me.

I couldn't help my pleased smile as I reached out and took it from him, holding it up at eye level to check for any flaws in the eye pieces. Satisfied, I reached up and snapped the helmet into place, ignoring the twinges in my injured hand as I ran my fingers over the seals, making sure they were secure. "Everything looks good." I told Sturges, stepping back to look at the whole. The armor stared back at me, as though it were waiting for something.

He cracked his knuckles, "Now to test it."

I watched as he moved around behind the power armor, pulling a fusion core from a pocket on his belt. "This core's gotta last. It's the only one I have on me, so we won't be taking turns." He told me apologetically. I nodded, feeling only a little disappointed, but then reflected, as Sturges turned the valve and climbed inside, that I didn't want to stick my injured hand into the gauntlet and get blood in it that I would later have to clean out. So I observed as Sturges moved the limbs one by one, tested the flashlight a few times, making the helmet look rather frightening as the eyes glowed, then moved off, the ground shaking slightly with every step.

I followed after as he moved down the street, noting the turned heads and surprised looks from the others. The armor moved smoothly down through the front gates, which one of the guards swung open at Sturges' approach. He stepped back respectfully as the armored suit strode past and out across the bridge, stopping halfway. I held my breath as Sturges stepped off the edge, dropping into the water with a splash and moving out towards deeper flows. No bubbles that would signify leaking air appeared as he moved deeper, finally disappearing beneath the gleaming surface.

I followed along the bank of the river, watching the eddies to keep track of Sturges' movements; or at least try to keep track as the water wasn't particularly clear. Eventually I came to the conclusion that I had lost him entirely and made my way back to Sanctuary. I hadn't gone _that_ far, but I still felt very uncomfortable until, a few minutes later, I saw the familiar walls, made a little less familiar from the outside looking in.

I felt relief when I crossed the invisible border around the settlement and circled around to one of the protected entrances.

"You really shouldn't go off by yourself." One of the guards, Michelle, I thought it was, though it was hard to tell under the helmeted cage armor, chided me.

"Sorry." I mumbled, scurrying past her with my eyes lowered. It had been a risk, but until I realized I had lost him, I had thought that Sturges had remained nearby and didn't think any of the raiders in the area would risk going up against a full suit of X-01 power armor.

I looked up when I reached the street and saw Sturges approaching from the other direction. He must have turned back long before I did, and had had time to deposit the suit back at the station. I judged that he felt very satisfied with himself by the way he had his thumbs hooked in his belt and a crooked smile on his face.

"I take it the test run went well?" I asked, falling in beside him as we walked towards the dining area, where the others had begun to gather.

"Smooth as can be." He shrugged nonchalantly. "I dried her off while I was waitin'. Run into any trouble on your way back?"

I shook my head.

"I didn't think you'd follow me." He grimaced.

"I got caught up in the moment, I guess." I tried a smile and shrug combination. It seemed to work.

We got our food and slid into one of the booths, as had become a fairly regular habit since we'd been working so closely together. The rest of the evening passed in conversation as we discussed the upgrades and possibilities. When Sturges finally pushed his plate away with a sigh I waited, as he clearly had something he wanted to say.

"For the time being we've done all we can do." He told me seriously. "In the morning I'll send the word out to the Castle that it's ready. Well, I'll send out the coded message we talked about. She's good about checkin' the station frequently."

He was talking about Radio Freedom, I guessed. It didn't seem to transmit as far as Sanctuary, which was a pity because I'd like to hear the music they played some time. I liked Diamond City Radio well enough and could hum along with the songs but something about the classical music station set my teeth on edge and I'd gotten into the habit of turning the radio off or turning it to Diamond City when I walked into a room where it was playing, provided none of the other inhabitants minded.

"I hope we've done enough." I fretted.

"We've done all we can do." He repeated stoutly. "No use worryin' over it." He looked at me narrowly. "And as a bonus, you're not scared of me anymore, are you?"

"I…" I blinked at him in surprise. "I guess I'm not."

"Good, one step at a time." He patted his hands on his thighs in punctuation and stood, leaving me to stare at him in wonder. To be perfectly honest I had simply forgotten that I was supposed to be scared of him and when he held out his hand to me to help me up I took it with my good hand and no hesitation.

He gave me a smile and my fingers a squeeze before releasing them. "Get some sleep. We're back to regular rotation tomorrow." He gave me a backwards wave as he walked away, leaving me to collect the dishes.

* * *

Things quickly fell back into the usual routine as we waited for the General to respond to the message and pronounce the final verdict on our upgrades.

"You look like you're expecting someone." Valeria finally told me after I twisted to look at the front gates one too many times during breakfast.

I turned back to my meal, blushing. "I'm just worried that the General won't be satisfied with our work." It wasn't exactly a secret what Sturges and I had been working on, but even I didn't know _why_ the General needed such a powerful set of armor.

Valeria shrugged expressively, reaching up to tighten her ponytail. "If she is, she is. If she's not, she's not." She told me fatalistically.

I wrinkled my nose at her. "Not very helpful."

"Annette, you do good work. No one can ask for more than your best." She shook her head then looked down her nose at me expressively. "You did do your best, didn't you?"

"Of course." I replied, offended.

"There you go."

She stood there looking at me for a long moment.

"Was there something else?" I asked, my hand rising to see if any food particles had gone astray on my face before tucking my hair behind my ears.

She gave me an unreadable smile before shaking her head. "No, nothing right now."

I watched her saunter off past Hamilton, shooting a look at him over her shoulder just before she left the dining area. I saw him smile a small, private smile to himself as he wiped down the counter and felt an odd sense of longing. I'd felt it a few times when I was watching the two of them interact but the reason for the emotion had so far eluded me. I shrugged off the feeling before picking up my bowl and walking over to the dishwashing area to confront the huge pile of used cutlery and dishes waiting for me.

I didn't mind taking the dishwashing duty. It was almost cathartic to just stand there and make dirty things clean, to listen to Hamilton humming behind me as he started preparations for the next meal. He had offered to teach me to cook once but I had demurred. I wasn't sure if what I tasted was the same as what the human-born tasted and didn't care to test it. Those nonsense thoughts occupied me sufficiently enough that I could finally relax for a time and soon I found myself humming along with the radio and moving in time to the rhythms.

I heard Hamilton singing behind me and looked over my shoulder, my hands still emerged in sudsy water, to see him with a dance in his step as he moved around the shop. I couldn't help but laugh. He grinned back at me and sent me a broad wink before the two of us fell back into continuing our tasks.

I hadn't danced before I came to Sanctuary. I'd never even had the urge. Come to think of it, I don't think I'd ever seen anyone dance in the Institute. The memory of dancing must have come from that anonymous commonwealth woman, or amalgamation thereof. Or maybe it was something deep within my programming that even the Institute scientists weren't aware of. If they were, I reflected, they would probably have tried to program it out, as it proved no useful function.

I finished my task and nodded farewell to Hamilton, who waved back with the knife he was using to chop vegetables. My time was my own now until after the next meal.

I walked slowly down the street, glancing at the General's house to find it still unoccupied as I passed. Of course she hadn't snuck past while we were eating, I chastised myself before stopping in my tracks as a dog trotted out from between the buildings and paused in the middle of the road to look at me.

I kept very still, feeling for the reassuring weight of the weapon on my hip. But the turrets hadn't reacted and the few people walking around didn't even glance at the animal so it was probably not a threat. It certainly did not act like a threat, tilting its head at me and whining softly.

"Oh, hey, Dogmeat's back." Preston walked up behind me. "How you doin' boy?"

The dog barked, sounding cheerful.

"Dogmeat?"

"Oh, yeah, you wouldn't have met him yet. He went off for a while with the General, must've decided to make his way back." Preston knelt by the dog and ruffled his ears as the dog woofed again, his tongue lolling out as he looked back at me.

I tried not to shrink back as Dogmeat shook himself free from Preston's attention and trotted towards me, sniffing my hand before sitting again and barking at me in what seemed to be an expectant way.

Preston sank back on his heels, his expression amused. "He seems to like you."

"Does he?" I asked, my voice squeaking alarmingly as I looked into those disturbingly intelligent amber eyes. "Um, hello Dogmeat. I'm Annette?" Another squeak made the statement sound more like a question than I would like.

His eyes seemed to laugh at me.

"You can pet him if you like. He's friendly." I looked at Preston with wide eyes, but he just smiled back so I looked back at the dog, hesitantly reaching out my hand to his head. Dogmeat obligingly moved so I could stroke his fur, which was soft and wiry at the same time.

"Good boy." I told him, and he woofed in what sounded like agreement before trotting off down the road and disappearing behind the General's house as I straightened up to watch him go.

"He'll probably stick around here until the General needs him." Preston, who had also been watching the dog's progress, told me.

I wondered if, like Dogmeat, Preston was waiting for the General to need him. We passed a few minutes in conversation about the weather before Preston excused himself and I walked into the house, intending to sit in my chair and read for a while, as I had discovered the General's comic book collection, when I saw someone had left their laundry in the middle of my bed. Certainly I owned nothing of that color, I thought as I picked it up. It was probably one of Valeria's pieces of clothing and the person who brought it in put it in my room by mistake.

After depositing the clothing on the neatly made bed in the other room I settled in to read the Live & Love comic I had borrowed, hoping it would give me some better insight into human relationships.

I was startled some time later to the sound of loud laughter coming from the other room and looked up just in time to see Valeria shove aside the curtain to my room, her face lit up with amusement. In her hands was the piece of clothing I had earlier deposited on her bed.

"I didn't expect you to be back before me." She told me, laughter in her voice as well. "Here, this belongs to you. First time I ever got a present returned before I had a chance to give it." She snorted and had to support herself on the doorframe as I stared at her dumbly. "Go on, take it." She hiccupped, extending the clothing.

I carefully set the comic on my beside table and extended my hands so she could deposit the folded garment into them. My fingers smoothed over the soft, rose-colored material.

"You got me a present?" I asked. "But I…?"

"You think we didn't notice someone labeled every shelf and box the storehouse so very carefully?" She waved a hand at me. " _And_ organized it?"

Well, yes. I had spent one of my off days in the storehouse, going over every shelf and familiarizing myself with the contents so I wouldn't be at a loss if someone sent me to fetch something. The next off day I had spent labeling everything so I wouldn't forget where it was. I really _hadn't_ thought anyone had noticed. "I wasn't hoping for…"

"I know you weren't. That's why a few of us pitched in and bought you a present. I noticed you seemed to like it the first day I took you in there." She straightened up, a worried crease appearing between her eyebrows. "Uh, you _do_ like it, right? Only I had Anne tailor it to the measurements she had made for you so..."

I unfolded the soft pink dress across my lap and stared down at it, my finger tracing over the tiny sprigged flowers printed there. My throat started to feel like it was swelling and my eyes burned. A few drops of liquid dripped from my eyes, making wet drops on the fabric. Hurriedly I wiped at my face in an attempt to stop the burning and the falling water.

"Here now. Don't cry." Valeria protested.

"No one's ever given me a present before." I managed to explain before my throat closed up, halting any further speech. I'd never cried before, either. Though I'd had the implanted memories of the act those were nothing compared to the experience of it.

"It's nothing to cry over. I mean…oh, hell." I felt arms wrap around me and I stiffened before realizing that it had to be Valeria. Her scent wrapped around me along with her arms. Never had anyone held me before, another new experience. I sagged against her as she patted my back until the fit was over.

"You okay?" She finally asked, moving back to study my face.

"Yes, sorry. You caught me unaware." I smiled tremulously up at her. "I love it. Really."

She rose to her feet, somewhat stiffly. "Well then, I'll let you get cleaned up." She told me with a lift of her eyebrow. "And maybe changed?"

I clutched the dress and nodded, this time waiting until she left the room before stripping down and slipping the dress on over my head. I felt, odd, different, as the pink folds settled around my bare legs. I wondered if this was what was meant when someone said they felt 'feminine'. I hadn't really been aware of my gender before, other than knowing it was one and not the other. This dress made me feel aware. I smoothed my hair behind my ears before pushing the curtain aside and walking out into the common room on bare feet. It hadn't seemed appropriate to pair my boots with this dress.

Valeria was standing at the counter drinking a cup of coffee when she saw me emerge. "Well, look at you." She smiled, walking over and straightening my hair from behind my ears with her free hand in a sisterly way. "You're adorable."

I blushed and laughed, smoothing the skirt with my palms. "Thank you, Valeria."

"Just an observation." She grinned from behind the rim of her cup as she took another sip.

"No, I mean for the dress."

She shrugged and I took that as her answer as I walked around the room, just for the pleasure of it.

"You should have shoes on if you're going out." Valeria commented as I neared the door.

I hedged. "I suppose I could wear my boots." I looked down at my bare feet, curling my toes against the worn carpet.

"That would ruin the look." She protested. "Here, let me see if anything I have will fit you." As Valeria was so much taller than me I doubted it, but I didn't protest as she strode down the hall and disappeared into the room she shared with Marie.

She emerged a few minutes later with a dusty box in her hands and a determined look in her eyes. She stopped in front of me, her hands holding the box almost protectively. "These belonged to my sister. You're about the same height as she was, so I think they'll fit." She took the lid off the box and held it out to me. "I've carried these around with me for years, but I want you to have them."

I looked at Valeria, noting the tightness in her eyes, then at the green and yellow shoes in the box. They had laces up the front and a slight raised heel. "I can't take these."

"No, seriously. Take them. They're not doing me, or her, any good anymore. I can't fit them so all they'd be doing is gathering more dust." She held out the box again. "You remind me of her, so it would make me happy to see you wear them. She…she would have been glad to see someone get some use out of them."

"Valeria…" She glared at me, so I changed what I was going to say. "Thank you."

"Thank me after you see if they fit."

They did. Perfectly.

When I stood up, a little wobbly on the unaccustomed heels, Valeria regarded me silently for a long moment before she spoke, her voice subdued.

"Our little homestead was attacked. There weren't many of us, but we managed to fight them off. It was only after the dust cleared that we discovered Lily had taken a bullet to the stomach." Her eyes were distant, seeing another time and place. "It took a while for her to die."

"I'm so sorry." I said, having nothing else to offer than my sympathy.

She shrugged her shoulders as though shrugging off old memories. "I think I told you once, when you first arrived, that we all have our reasons. Well, for the longest time she was mine." She smiled sadly at me. "Lunch?"

I nodded, grateful that she seemed to have declared the subject closed.


	5. Part 5

I, Synth: Part 5

a/n: Apologies for the delay between chapters.

* * *

Someone was in the room.

I kept my eyes shut, keeping as still as possible, my breathing even though my heart was racing. I had a lot of practice at pretending calm even when I felt anything but. I didn't recognize this person's scent, though at first I had thought Valeria had come in to wake me for some reason or another. No, this person smelled of sweat and leather, with an overlay of gunpowder and oil. Whoever it was was trying to be quiet, but they bumped the table and let out a muffled, choked-off curse. The voice was masculine, so definitely not Valeria, and not a voice I recognized.

What options I had rolled through my mind. I could pretend sleep and hope they would go away, however, I had no wish to be robbed. I could try to reach for my gun without him noticing, tricky in such a small space, or I could simply sit up and ask what he was doing in my room in the middle of the night, and maybe reach for my gun in the meantime.

I sat up quickly and reached for my nightstand, trying to keep my hand concealed behind my body.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my room?" I demanded as my fingertips brushed the cold metal and wood. I swung it into my lap, holding it ready.

The shadowed figure stilled completely, before slowly raising his hands in a pacifying gesture. "Just looking for a place to bed down." He told me slowly. "Been on the road for a while."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "And why here?"

He laughed without humor. "Boss told me to just pick an unoccupied bed." He thumped one hand down on the mattress of the other bed.

I startled at the sudden thump and suddenly he was there, one hand pinning the gun against my legs, the other clasping my wrist. I yelped loudly in protest and he transferred my gun into his own hand while simultaneously clapping the other hand over my mouth.

"Alright now." He told me quietly. "No one is going to shoot anyone and I'm going to get some interrupted sleep. God knows I need it."

I stared at him, my eyes wide above his large hand.

He sighed, removing his hand. "Look, I didn't mean to scare you but I don't react well to having a gun pulled on me. I'm going to keep this for now." He hefted my gun in his hand. "Just don't go making a big deal out of this and we'll be solid. Okay?"

I nodded dumbly, still shocked into stillness, and watched as he shucked his coat and tucked my gun under his pillow.

"Good night." He said and rolled onto the bed.

I knew without being told that any move on my part would have him up and at full attention in a heartbeat, so I carefully lowered myself back down onto the mattress, tucking the pillow under my head. Laying there in the dark, listening to the breath of the other occupant of the room, one who had just assaulted me and stolen my gun, I didn't think down time would come, but it did.

* * *

 _Voices…_

"This is the fifth time."

"I am well aware."

 _Familiar…_

"If we need to wipe this unit again it will be the last time. Why do we even bother?"

"You know how expensive it is to make a new unit?"

 _Blank space where there should be thought, emotion._

"Besides, father wants this one for a certain mission."

 _Except fear._

"Why this one?! All the irregularities. _Five resets."_

"It won't matter after this. The unit will serve one last purpose."

I woke suddenly and completely, my eyes snapping open to the dim sunlight steaming in through the holes we hadn't quite managed to patch yet, what with one thing and another. Across the room from me I could see the man from last night still sleeping soundly, his thin mouth hanging slightly open, though I could barely hear his quiet breaths. He looked young, but careworn, his brow furrowed even when deep asleep.

I must have been studying him for longer than I thought because his eyes fluttered open and I found myself looking into the bluest eyes I'd ever seen glaring at me.

"You're not gonna yell again, are you?"

I shook my head against my pillow, conscious of my sleep-mussed hair and bleary face.

"Good," He sat up, running his fingers through his thick, ash brown hair and swinging his feet to the floor. "Last thing I need first thing in the morning."

He reached out and grabbed his gun belt, which had been between his body and the wall, I presumed, the entire night, and slung it over his shoulder before looking at me again. I sat up slowly and his eyes snapped over my figure, almost too quick to catch. He grabbed his hat, shoving it onto his mess of hair before tipping it showily at me. "You talk in your sleep." He said with a smirk that warmed his cool eyes just the slightest bit.

"I do not!" I gasped as panic seized my chest.

He laughed and pulled my gun out from beneath his pillow, setting it on the chest between our beds with a wink. Then he grabbed his coat and slung it over his other shoulder before pushing aside the curtain and moving out into the hall, almost colliding with Marie in the process. He ignored her astonished look and was gone.

She turned her astonished look to me, catching the curtain before it could swing closed. It was a measure of her discomfiture that she did so, as she would normally not breach the bounds of our perceived 'privacy'.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"I didn't catch his name." I replied, gathering my blankets along with what little dignity I had left.

She stared, her mouth moving soundlessly.

I picked up my gun and checked the chamber, grimacing to find, unsurprisingly, that it was empty. I wondered when he had even had found time to do it.

"Well," She finally managed. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"Checking my gun?" I turned confused eyes on the doctor. "It's not even loaded."

"No, sleeping with strange men."

"He didn't hurt me, he just took my gun and told me not to yell."

Marie's eyes went wide. Then her whole self seemed to narrow, her face painted in rage. Abruptly she dropped the curtain and I heard her rapid footsteps retreat down the hall.

I shrugged and dressed. As I was pulling on my boots I heard the sound of raised voices outside my window. I tried not to listen in, this was a small community and most disputes that did not involve the community as a whole were usually ignored unless they escalated. However, it wasn't long before I caught my own name and the raised voice of the man of the night before. I listened more closely and recognize Marie's voice as well, shrill with anger.

Oh, well, this might involve me after all.

I didn't even finish tying my boots, just jammed my feet in and raced through the curtain and out the front door to find a knot of people gathered right outside. Marie and the man from the night before were in the middle of the gathering with the General looking on, an odd tilt to her eyebrow, and Deacon hovering on the outskirts, listening, his face as opaque as his glasses. I saw Valeria standing close to the center, hefting a hammer thoughtfully in her hand.

The man from the night before spotted me and sent an exasperated gesture my way. "Look. You tell her, nothing happened!"

"What's going on?" I asked, feeling small when all those gazes turned on me at once. "What happened?"

"Exactly!" The man threw up his hands, sending a pleading look to the General. "I didn't sign up for this, boss."

The general covered her mouth with her hand, perhaps to cover a cough, but before she could reply Marie spoke up, shoving her way through the gathering crowd toward me.

"Don't you go near her, she told me what you did."

"All I did was sleep!" He protested, scowling at me.

I found myself scowling back, despite myself. "You held a gun on me, told me not to make any noise and _then_ you went to sleep."

Marie looked as though she were about to explode.

"Yeah, Wait. No. Well. Yes, I did do that." The man protested. "But I didn't do what she's accusing me of."

The general made a noise that sounded like a choked-off laugh and we all turned to her in astonishment. "Oh," Her expression was mirthful and rueful at the same time. "Sorry. I don't mean to laugh, Marie."

"This isn't a laughing matter."

"It is if it's a misunderstanding, which I believe it is." She turned to me. "Annette. What exactly happened?"

I told her the whole story, all the while feeling my face burn with embarrassment.

"And then he left." I concluded.

"I see." The General smiled at me, again ruefully. "I apologize for putting you in that position. When I told MacCready to find the nearest bed I didn't realize it would be the one in your room."

MacCready. Finally a name to put with the man. The crowd, deeming the altercation to be over, began to disperse.

"So wait, he didn't… force you?" Marie asked, her face pale.

MacCready didn't allow me to answer. "What kind of man do you think I am?"

"I don't know you!" She shouted back before the General stepped between them.

"Okay," She said firmly. "This is MacCready, we've been traveling together for a while and I vouch for him."

Marie seemed to deflate. "You vouch for him?"

"I do." The General touched the woman's arm lightly. "Will you be all right, Marie?"

She shrugged out from under the General's hand. "I need to get to work." She muttered and started off down the road.

I still wasn't sure what was going on, or at least not the scope of it but I did understand one thing and raced after her.

"Marie."

She stopped but didn't turn.

"Thank you." I said. "For being willing to fight for me."

She started as though someone had struck her before nodding sharply and continuing on her way.

I heard footsteps coming up behind me and turned to see the General approaching, MacCready and Valeria on her heels. He glared at me with those blue eyes partially in shadow from the brim of his hat. I glanced up at it and narrowed my eyes. I hadn't really gotten a good look at it before but now I could see that it looked somehow familiar, as though I had seen it before but couldn't place where.

"So much for a warm welcome," MacCready muttered as he passed, glancing at me. "You're going to trip if you keep running around with your boot laces untied." He brushed past, heading for the breakfast crowd.

The General and Valeria stopped.

"I hope he didn't give you too much of a scare." The General said sympathetically. "He's really not that bad once you get to know him. He's just a bit…blunt."

"It's okay." I replied, realizing it was true. "It just startled me when I realized someone else was there."

"A natural reaction." She smiled. "My apologies." She nodded as she passed and I watched her go, Preston intercepting her path so they walked together on the way to breakfast.

"It seems I missed some excitement." Valeria told me, her hammer, I noted, now back in its place on her belt.

"It seems so." I agreed. She must have spent the night with Hamilton, which had been happening a lot more often recently.

"Breakfast?" she asked, and I nodded. "Oh, and you should probably take care of that." She jerked her head towards my feet.

As I bent to tie my bootlaces, blushing at the memory of MacCready's admonishment, she continued thoughtfully.

"You know, he's kind of cute."

"Who?"

She tapped her fingers lightly on the top of my head. "That MacCready guy, silly." She laughed at my grunt. "Just don't tell Hamilton I said so."

"I won't." I agreed, straightening, and she slipped her arm through mine in a familiar gesture as we continued on our way. I was getting used to her displays of physical affection and didn't comment, though I was still not quite comfortable with the fact of someone else touching me so casually. It wasn't that I didn't like it, it was just that in the Institute no one would touch a synth deliberately unless it was for a disciplinary reason. As a matter of fact I noted that even here not many people, unless they were in a romantic relationship, or perhaps not even then, physically touched each other. It was a statement of Valeria's nature that not only did she do so, but did so without thinking.

I was listening to the crunch of debris under our boots and the growing murmur of the breakfast crowd when we came upon a new face sauntering up the road.

Beneath a battered old fedora, a face tattered and torn, exposing the metal underneath. Snapping electric eyes that missed nothing. I squeezed Valeria's arm and she looked down at me, a frown on her face that turned into an expression of understanding which, given the circumstances, was a bit misplaced.

"Not to worry, he's a sweetheart." She told me soothingly.

"Nick!" I heard the General call out. "You finally made it."

She trotted up to the, well, he could only be a synth but not of a type I recognized, and kissed him affectionately on the cheek as he grinned crookedly at her. The General was another who did not eschew physical affection, though she was more reserved about it.

"Any trouble on the road?" She asked, guiding him back to the table where MacCready and Preston sat, MacCready tucking into his breakfast with enthusiasm, his arm curled protectively around his bowl as though afraid someone was going to take it from him.

"No more than usual." He drawled. "Nice to see you again, Preston. MacCready." He greeted the two men. Preston responded with a polite good morning while the other man just waved his spoon briefly.

Valeria finally began walking again, though my grip on her arm turned more into a supportive necessity than a comforting gesture. It wasn't the fact that he was a synth, not entirely, it was the fact that most seemed to pay no mind, as far as I could see, to his presence. The General had an obvious affection for him, but even Preston seemed pleased to see him. Granted, MacCready was shooting him suspicious looks but suspicion seemed to be part of his general makeup.

I hesitantly patted Valeria's fingers to signal that I had gotten a hold of myself, and she gave me a tight smile. When we reached the dining area she released my arm to accept the plate of food a smiling Hamilton handed to her.

I glanced around and saw Sturges waving me over, no doubt to discuss some new project we were about to embark on after lunch. With a lurch to my stomach that had me nearly losing my appetite I remembered that with the General back in Sanctuary we would most likely be getting the final verdict on our work on the X-01 today. I glanced at Valeria, who waved me off with an understanding smile before settling herself on a stool near where Hamilton was distributing plates.

"You look nervous." Sturges told me with his usual easy smile as I settled in next to him.

"I am." I admitted.

"No need to be. That hunk of metal is the prettiest thing in Sanctuary, aside from yours truly." He winked. "The General will be pleased."

I glanced over to the general's table and met a set of glaring blue eyes. Hurriedly I drew my gaze away and fastened it on my plate instead.

"What is that _thing_ doing here again?" The sudden strident tones of Marcy Long cut through my eardrums.

I looked at the suddenly sober Sturges before looking back over my shoulder at the General's table. Marcy was standing near it, but in a pose that suggested she'd rather be much father away, her shaking hand pointing at Nick, who gazed back imperturbably.

"Synths aren't welcome here!" She shouted.

The General rose, deliberate and slow. "Nick Valentine is my friend and companion. And he will always be welcome here." Her voice was pleasant on the surface, as though she were discussing the weather, but I could hear the edges of storm clouds rolling in.

Funny, I could remember when I wouldn't have been aware of that edge, or the explosion it may signify.

"But he's a synth." Marcy persisted.

"I am well aware." The general's storm clouds were rolling closer, though her voice remained pleasant.

Jun sidled up to his wife and attempted to take her arm. "Marcy, let it go." He suggested hesitantly.

"Be quiet, Jun." She snapped.

"I don't want any trouble…" Nick began, but the General put a hand on his shoulder.

She smiled down at him, her eyes warm behind her glasses. "Nick is my friend, and if you can't be civil I suggest you remove yourself from this conversation, Marcy." She looked up again and I could see thunder in her blue eyes. 'Before I am forced to remove you.' Remained unsaid, but it hung in the air nonetheless.

Marcy huffed and stomped off, Jun trailing in her wake like a limp tail.

I glanced at the other occupants at the table as the general retook her seat. Preston was looking at her with something close to naked adoration, Nick confused but pleased, and MacCready looked…thoughtful as she took up whatever conversation Marcy's intervention had interrupted.

"Sure has been a dramatic morning." Sturges complained humorously as I looked back at him with eyebrows raised. "An' we haven't even finished breakfast yet."

I couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

I backed up, carefully distancing myself from the knot of people surrounding the X-01 that stood shining and unconcerned in its midst. Sturges leaned against the wall beside me, watching with raised eyebrows.

"Should we do something?" I murmured.

He shrugged.

The General had been greatly pleased with the armor, that wasn't the problem presented to us at the moment. She had been flattering in her praise of our work and I had found the fluttering in my stomach dissipating until she made her announcement, resulting in a tight knot forming in its place.

"I'll be off in the morning, then." She had said, setting her shoulders and adjusting the sit of her glasses on the bridge of her nose.

"So which of us is going with you?" Preston asked. "I know I'm ready."

MacCready was more hesitant but he chimed in with his willingness as long as he was guaranteed hazard pay to deal with the inevitable radiation poisoning.

Nick gave him a disgusted look and volunteered his services free of charge.

"I'm going it alone on this one." She told them firmly.

And that's when the drama began that had me backing out of the line of the hail fire of words. The General was steadfast against all their arguments. "Listen." She finally said, raising her voice above theirs. The men trailed off, though they still looked mutinous. "Listen," She said again, this time in a more conciliatory tone of voice. "We only have one suit of X-01 armor, and even then it's a serious risk to venture as deep into the glowing sea as it looks like I'm going to have to travel."

"The T-45..." Preston began.

"Is good armor for its design, but I don't think it will be able to stand up to the stresses of the environment as well as the local…wildlife." She said gently. "That's why I asked my best mechanics to spec out the X-01 as far as it would go." She paused, looking each of them in the eyes in turn. "I will not risk you."

"General…" Preston started, but she cut him off again.

"I will not risk you." She said again, the look on her face saying it was final and no more argument would sway her. "I'll make it, you know I will." She touched Preston reassuringly on the arm, "I will come back."

Preston gave her a long look and shook his head. "Whatever you say, General."

"She shouldn't be making promises she may not be able to keep." Sturges murmured to me, his voice low.

She gave another look at the three. "None of you are to follow me. Am I understood?"

"Yeah, boss." MacCready finally said, looking rather relieved, I thought.

"If that's what you want." Nick replied, looking doubtful. "This is your show."

She sighed, as though in relief that they weren't going to press the matter further. "Thank you. I'll start out in the morning."

"If you're passing by Diamond City I'll go with you that far." Nick said. "Seems like I just arrived and I'll be heading back." He said ruefully.

"Sorry about that, Nick. You know you're free to hang around here as long as you like." She told him.

"Not sure everyone feels that way." Nick replied with a shrug. "Not that that's stopped me before."

"Pay no attention to Marcy." The General rolled her eyes.

"For every raised voice there are two silent ones thinking the same thing." He shrugged again. "You know that, Denali."

"I'm working on it."

"I know you are, and I appreciate it."

The General smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, I have a bottle of whiskey in my office with our names on it. We'll catch up before bed."

"Well, I don't sleep but I'm on for the drinks." Nick grinned that crooked grin of his and offered his arm to the General, who took it with a smile. Preston and MacCready trailed after them, Preston looking glum, MacCready with a shrug and a glance at me and Sturges, as though wondering if the offer of drinks extended to us as well, and if he'd have to share.

Sturges made a flipping motion with his hand while I returned his look blankly.

He shrugged again and didn't spare us a second glance as he sauntered up the street after the others.

"Well," Sturges finally said when they were out of sight.

I let out a small, nervous giggle.

"You going to come out now?" Sturges called into the house behind us.

"Aww, you ruined my dramatic entrance." Came a familiar voice from the shadows. Deacon appeared and leaned against the doorway with a sigh.

"She convince you to stay behind, too?" Sturges asked, twirling a screwdriver between his fingers before taking up a similar pose.

"Is that what they were talking about?" Deacon grinned. "I'm afraid I stopped listening."

"You're going to follow her." I said in surprise. "Wait, I saw you this morning."

"Yeah, but I made sure she didn't. Didn't want to join the knitting circle earlier, so I've been…" He made air quotes with his fingers, "on a super secret mission."

"You made sure she couldn't order you not to follow her." I surmised, impressed.

"Following Den is kind of a hobby of mine." He shrugged, smirking though I sensed that he was deadly serious. "No sense in stopping now." I watched him shift his weight and stroll across the cracked concrete to where the T-45 sat. "What she said about this armor true?"

"Mostly true." Sturges agreed. "She's strong, but not nearly as up to spec as the X-01. As long as you avoid any intense fights she should get you through all right."

"Avoiding fights is my specialty." Deacon rested his hand on the shoulder of the empty suit and looked up into the darkened visor. "Well, old girl, looks like we're going to be taking a little walk tomorrow.


	6. Part 6

I Synth pt. 6

* * *

Weeks passed. The disappearance of the T-45 armor shortly after the General's departure did not go unremarked, but I think there was more of a sense of relief rather than anger concerning its whereabouts. No one wanted the General on her perilous journey alone.

News filtered back occasionally, through the chain of provisioners and traveling traders. Tales were passed of a woman in power armor clearing out a nest of raiders, or ghouls, or super-mutants that had been harassing southern settlements. As time went by the news came from further and further south, and took longer and longer to travel back, until one day there was no more. So eventually we stopped waiting breathlessly for word and went on with everyday life in Sanctuary as best we could.

New faces arrived, and Sturges and I had a fresh set of hands to assist us in the form of a young man from a settlement far to the west, outside the Commonwealth. His name, or at least he told us his name was Dabber, and despite his nervous nature he was good with his hands and quick to pick up on what innovations Sturges and I put forth to him.

MacCready fit into the community better than I had expected, completing duty roster assignments without complaint and helping out with security patrols. Often I would see him resting against the top of the shield wall, or in the sniper's roost, staring out into the surrounding land, his rifle over his shoulder. Me, he treated warily, Marie, he ignored altogether, a stance she seemed more than happy to reciprocate.

I was examining some faulty wiring on a turret near the gates one morning just after breakfast when a minuteman runner arrived from one of the other settlements.

"I need to speak to Preston Garvey" She gasped as I called out a greeting. "Now."

I hurriedly replaced the tools I had been using on my belt and stood next to her as the guard on the gate swung them open for us. "We'll find him, follow me."

We trotted down the street, drawing concerned glances as she lost her footing and I had to grip her arm to keep her upright and moving when she refused to stop and rest.

"Has anyone seen Preston?" I called out when we reached the dining area.

"I saw him with Codsworth by the big tree." Hamilton replied.

I nodded in thanks and guided the runner on until I saw the familiar profile of Preston chatting with the even more recognizable Codsworth.

"Preston!" I called.

He turned and looked, shading his eyes with his hand, before exchanging a few short words with Codsworth, who stayed behind doing whatever it was he did. He jogged towards us, much to my relief, as I didn't think the runner could have made more than a few more steps before total collapse.

"Whoa, hey." He drew up next to us. "Elisa? What happened?"

"Sir." She tottered and he put a hand out to support her. "There's been an abduction. Or, well…" She gulped and I was startled to realize that there were tears in her eyes. "We hope it's just an abduction. We haven't gotten word about a ransom yet but when he didn't show at his usual time we went looking for him and found his brahmin abandoned and wandering along the road."

"Who?" Preston asked, his voice deeper than normal.

"Joshua."

I put a hand over my mouth to keep in my cry of dismay. Preston looked at me, his face set in stark lines. "Take Elisa, make sure she gets some rest." I nodded as he transferred the woman into my supporting grip. "After that we'll figure out where to start looking."

"But sir," She began to protest.

He held up a hand, not looking at either of us, instead, his gaze was firmly fastened on the ground as he thought. "In the meantime I'll start assembling a troop and find a volunteer to take over his route while we look for him." Now he looked up at Elisa. "We won't abandon him."

She gulped again and leaned on me fully. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

I gently guided a sniffling Elisa back to the dining area where I seated her in a booth and bustled about assembling a plate of leftovers and a can of purified water. Both of us looked up when we heard the sound of a shot and a flare arced by overhead. She bit her lip and turned to her meal.

After asking Hamilton to keep an eye on her I returned to find Preston in the midst of a group of people, including several of the off duty guards. I slid in next to MacCready, who shot me a doubtful look before returning his gaze to Preston.

"That flare should bring in any minutemen in the area, but I still need someone to travel to Sunshine Tidings," I assumed that was where Elisa was usually stationed, "And retrieve the brahmin. Our people depend on those supply lines and we can't let them lapse. Volunteers?"

I started to raise my hand but MacCready grabbed my wrist and pushed it back down. I glared up at him. "You wouldn't last a minute on your own." He muttered, not releasing his grip. "Besides, never volunteer for anything, it's bad business."

In the meantime Preston had selected another willing settler and that person ran off to the supply shed. The minuteman leader looked around and his gaze snagged on me.

"Elisa's in the dining area." I supplied.

"Okay, bring her to the General's house." He replied with a nod. "We'll need to look over the maps to narrow down our search area."

I started off but was brought up short, my arm jerking. I looked down to see that MacCready's large hand was still wrapped around my wrist. He looked down, seeming surprised, and released me as though my skin had suddenly become burning hot. He glared at me as though it were my fault. I cast him back a withering look and continued on my way, ignoring the fact that I could still feel the warmth of his hand on my skin.

* * *

The General kept a store of maps in the living area of her home, stowed carefully rolled up and wrapped on one of the shelves near her comic book collection. As I got Elisa settled in one of the comfortable looking armchairs Preston was poring over the selection, finally pulling out two. He rolled them out flat on the counter, weighing down the edges with some of the various objects that cluttered the surface.

I sidled over to take a closer look, half-expecting Preston to tell me to get back to work, that he would handle this, but he just glanced up and gave me a short nod so I gathered I had permission to stay, not that I thought I would have any useful input to provide.

The maps were hand-drawn, as was to be expected, and crude by the standards of the Institute, where the maps were digital and often three-dimensional. But I saw beauty in their careful rendering, with hand-written notes and details added around the margins and on the map itself. I got the feeling that these were drawn by the General herself, by the neat, hurried hand and precisely drawn lines. These maps were of the area surrounding both Abernathy Farm and Sunshine Tidings Co-op. I was startled to see how many places were marked, 'raider sighting', 'Gunner outpost', 'super-mutants', etc.

I heard someone else enter and approach the table. They looked over my shoulder and I saw MacCready's slightly hook-nosed profile come into my peripheral vision. I tucked my hair behind my ear, determined to ignore his persistent closeness. "Not a huge search area." He commented.

"No." Preston agreed, "And as you can see we've got it well mapped out." He tapped his knuckles on one corner of the map. "Which makes this all the more frustrating. No matter how many times we clear this area, the baddies just keep coming back."

"Yeah, that's kind of what they do." MacCready agreed.

"Elisa, can you come over here and point out exactly where you found Joshua's brahmin?" Preston called.

The woman heaved herself out of the chair and stumbled to the counter. She looked over the map for a few long moments before pointing at a spot along one of the roads. "About here." She said hesitantly.

"What direction was it facing when you found it?" MacCready asked. I shot him a doubtful look and he narrowed his eyes at me. "Brahmin are stupid but they remember routines. The only reason the dam.. I mean darned things have provisioners along is to make sure nobody bothers them. If he was heading one direction or the other we can probably figure it out by which way the brahmin was walking."

"Oh." I replied stupidly.

"Yeah. Oh." He mocked.

"He was heading towards Sunshine Tidings." Elisa replied. "I think."

"Did you stop at Abernathy to check if they had seen him?" Preston asked.

"No, I came directly here."

MacCready rubbed a hand over his face, clearly exasperated. Elisa glared at him. It was rather satisfying to see I wasn't the only one he rubbed the wrong way.

Preston gave the other man a quelling look and he dropped it. "That's where we'll start then. If he hadn't shown up at Red Rocket we would have heard about it by now. My guess if that whoever took him did do between Abernathy and Sunshine Tidings."

"Mostly raiders and gunners through there." I noted.

Preston paused long enough for me to see a worried look pass over his face. Finally he said, "Yeah, mostly." He turned to address the minuteman runner. "Elise, you rest up and I'll come get you when we're ready to go. There's a place for travelers to rest by the dining area. Ask Hamilton to show you. Red hair, freckles."

"Yes, sir." She saluted and tottered out the door.

Preston and MacCready shared a look after she had disappeared out into the street.

I watched their silent communication. "There's something you didn't want her to hear, isn't there?"

Preston sighed.

MacCready looked unusually sober. "There's no reason either the Gunners or raiders would just let his brahmin go."

My knees went weak and I felt MacCready's hand on my back, guiding me to a chair. I plopped down ungracefully. "Then what…?"

Preston tilted back his hat to rub at his forehead. "Not sure. But…whatever it is we need to make sure it's taken out." He took a deep breath and settled his hat more firmly on his head, his shoulder straightening with resolve. "No use wasting time speculating. I need to get kitted up while we wait for the troops to arrive." He rolled up the maps and replaced them on their shelf before heading out the door, his mind obviously already on the ordeal ahead.

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked MacCready, my voice shakier than I would like.

"Not really." He told me bluntly. "Just don't go spreading our suspicions around."

"I would never!" I flared up and oddly enough he smiled at me, not his usual mocking smile, but a genuine one that softened his stern expression.

"Yeah, I got that feeling about you." He shrugged, looking away as though he were uncomfortable. "Listen, I know we got off on the wrong foot but I don't think there's any reason to keep going around glaring at each other. So let's call pax, okay?"

I blinked at him, rather stunned at his sudden change of heart, but then I realized it wasn't so sudden, remembering his hand gentle on the small of my back. "Yes, I would like that." I agreed, looking away and tucking my hair behind my ear in order to have something to do with my hands.

"At least until the next time you try to do something stupid like volunteer to be a provisioner." He laughed and was out the door before I could formulate a suitable reply.

I sat there in the General's comfortable home for a while, bolt upright with my feet close together. This whole situation was something entirely outside of my experience and I realized that I had been acting on instinct. The problem was I wasn't entirely sure if it was _my_ instinct or the unknown woman's that led me to volunteer, that led me to feel concerned and curious, that led me to feel warm and pleased when Preston turned to me for insight. To feel…something…when MacCready had turned that warm, genuine smile in my direction.

The problem was, I thought, was that I had become too comfortable, too used to the people and the routine. Too used to being thought of as human-born that at times I forgot that I wasn't one of them.

What would happen, I wondered, if the Institute tried to recall me now? Would I, _could_ I even go back to being what I was, another featureless synth among many, obeying orders without thought or opinion?

 _Five resets_ …

A memory that didn't feel like my own surged into the back of my mind. Was it from a dream, or was it really mine? I clenched my hands in my lap. Had I been…wiped before? Was I even…? Who was I really?

I stood up abruptly, clutching my head at the sudden pain that lanced through my temples. I stumbled against the counter, sending a few of the items arranged there flying. As quickly as the pain started, it stopped.

I stooped to pick up the items I had knocked over, placing them carefully back in their previous position before walking out the door and returning to my work on the turret on the gate, identity crisis, for the moment, pushed back by the need to appear normal, to fit in, to remain where I was.

* * *

The moment the gate I opened I knew the news was bad. I still wasn't expert at reading human emotions but one would have to be blind not to see the mood of the party was grim. Dust covered and with the dragging feet of exhaustion the residents of Sanctuary returned.

Without Joshua.

I set down my cup of coffee. Steve, noticing my attention had wavered from our conversation, looked over to the gates, his face, grim at the best of times, becoming a ghoulish mask. He sighed and pushed my coffee cup back toward my hand. "Don't waste it, kid." He chided gently. I dutifully picked the cup back up and took a sip, though it tasted sour in my mouth.

Preston halted the party just inside, giving a few final words before everyone dispersed to rest and wash the dust of travel from their clothing. His shoulders were square, but almost too much so, betraying the effort he must have been making to keep them from slumping. He stood staring at the gate for a long minute after the rest of the party dispersed. Then he turned and marched to his own home, his tread deliberately steady.

That evening he gathered us all together with the meeting bell, waiting until everyone assembled before imparting the news that we had all, by now, guessed.

"A few days ago, one of our provisioners went missing along his usual route. Once the news reached us a team was assembled to seek him out and, if possible, bring him back safe and unharmed." He paused to take a deep breath and I glanced around the crowd of grim faces. Valeria and Hamilton were holding hands, she leaning on his shoulder, her face half-hidden against his neck. I felt someone slip up behind me and knew from the scent alone that it was MacCready. I wished I dared to take his hand, but he'd probably glare at me if I tried, so I knotted my fingers at my waist instead, pressing them against my churning stomach.

"It is with great sadness that…" He paused again to rub his hand over his face. "That I must report today that Joshua Dunness was lost in the line of his duties. He will be sorely missed."

I heard the soft sound of someone crying behind me, but most of the faces remained dry and set. How many times, I wondered, had news like this been delivered in one way or another that those gathered could take the loss of one of their own so stoically. How much worse had happened that, while they felt the loss of one man, it was not debilitating? How sheltered I had been, how we all had been, back at the Institute.

"Did you take out the bastards who got him?" Someone called.

Preston's face became even more grim. "They won't be taking any of ours ever again." He said with emphasis. "For the remainder of the evening I would like you all to remember Joshua, a good and brave man. First round is on me."

There were no cheers, but there was plenty of chatter as everyone filtered towards the bar for a night of drinking and memory.

"You knew him well?" MacCready asked with grudging politeness, though I could see his eyes watching the line forming at the bar.

"Not very." I allowed, "But he was the first person I met when I first came to Sanctuary. He passed me on the bridge," sort of, "and made me feel that I would be welcome here." I finished quietly, remembering my self of not that long ago, so disoriented and unsure.

"Sorry," He said, looking at me for a moment. "Hey, looks like your friends are waiting for you so I'll let you go." I watched him join the line at the bar before I joined my friends, feeling a brief pang that they weren't truly. They couldn't be, not with the secret of my purpose lurking in the back of my head.

A purpose that not even I truly knew.

* * *

A few days later word reached us that the General had been sighted at Egret Tours Marina and was making her limping way back north. A relieved breeze seemed to pass through Sanctuary at the news of her survival.

"Never doubted for a minute." MacCready vowed, "Woman's made of grit and steel." But even he heaved a sigh of relief when he thought no one was looking.

No word of Deacon, but then there wouldn't be as no one knew he had followed her aside from Sturges, Preston and I. We had explained to Preston that Deacon had borrowed the T-45, and though he had been angry, it was more because he hadn't thought of it himself than the fact that Deacon had essentially lifted a very valuable suit of power armor.

When the General limped into the settlement a week later, her X-01 battered, many pieces out of commission and hanging on by their straps alone there was a definite uplift in spirit since the loss of Joshua almost two weeks earlier.

Preston rushed out to meet her, taking the helmet dangling from her hand and walking alongside as she made her way back to the power armor station to drop off the suit. She nodded to Sturges and me when we moved to intercept her.

"Thank you." She told us feelingly.

We glanced at each other, then Sturges spoke up. "Just did what we could, ma'am."

She maneuvered the power suit into the station and exited, holding on to the edges of the frame for a long second while she got her balance back.

"Ugh," She finally groaned, stretching her back. "Deathclaws, ghouls, Children of Atom and a Scientific Super-mutant. I don't even know where to begin."

"You can begin by getting off your feet and getting a good meal into you, General." Preston said firmly. "You can tell your story later." The General gave him an amused smile but didn't argue.

She nodded to Struges and me, taking her leave. "Is Deacon around?" She asked Preston as they walked away, "I'm going to need him on this one."

"Ah, no, I haven't seen him in a while." Preston stammered.

"I see," She sounded disappointed.

I gave Sturges an alarmed look and he shrugged. "Nothing to be done about it." He told me fatalistically. "At least she didn't seem to notice the T-45 was gone."

"Yet." I pointed out.

We both stood back and surveyed the damage to the X-01 in silence for a few long minutes.

"Well." He said finally.

"Well." I agreed.

Dabbers walked up, rubbing his hands on an oily piece of rag. "Hey, is that a set of X-01?"

"It was." Sturges sighed.


	7. Part 7

I Synth pt. 7

* * *

The hills were shrouded in mist, the skies promising storm later in the day. I rolled the shiver from my shoulders, turning from the view outside the broken windows.

"It's going to be a cool one." Valeria commented, appearing at my shoulder with a cup of steaming coffee. I took it gratefully as she took my place peering out the window. "Think _she's_ cooled off by now?"

I took a sip in order to delay having to answer. She waited patiently for me to swallow.

"Maybe," I finally said. "She was really angry."

"Well, yeah." The other woman laughed, dropping herself onto our ratty couch. "We all heard her."

I shrugged, trying to minimize the memory of the General's fury, the pain in her eyes.

"I guess I'd be pissed too, if Hamilton pulled something like that. Mad, but flattered, and the makeup sex would be incredible." Her eyes fluttered shut as she entertained that particular fantasy and I had to look away from the expression on her face.

"I don't think it's like that between the two of them." I pointed out hesitantly, as I was hardly an expert on interpersonal relationships.

She straightened up, making a thoughtful sound as she peered at me from under half-closed eyelids. "If it's not I don't think it's because of her. She's obviously crazy about him."

I sat down across from her, intrigued. "How do you know?"

She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, considering. I waited patiently. There was no hurry this morning, one of the rare occasions that our off days coincided.

"She smiles more when he's around, as if she's more relaxed or something." Her voice was thoughtful. "When he walks into the room her eyes change, like something behind them goes soft. " She leaned back again and chuckled. "You realize that I don't watch them all the time but there's a few other little things. I don't know what they're like when they're in private."

"What other little things?" I pressed.

She eyed me. "Do you really think we should be sitting around gossiping about the General's love life?"

I jerked back, stung. "Oh, I…I didn't…"

She laughed at me. "You're so easy, Annette."

I blushed and ducked my head, scowling at her. She flicked her fingers at me, snickering.

"Okay, okay." She hiccupped. "Did you ever notice that out of all the people the General has brought here _he's_ the only one that sleeps in her home?"

"I had noticed."

She nodded.

"What about Deacon, though?" I asked.

"He's a tougher nut to crack." She shrugged.

"It's hard to tell what he's thinking." I agreed. "Do you…do you think he wears those glasses even while he sleeps?"

She laughed long and hard. "I know, right?"

"But he's always watching her." She continued when her laughing fit had subsided, stretching her back before slumping back into the worn cushions. "He always turns toward her when they're together, like she's a lodestone. But I'm not sure either of them realizes that."

"But you do?"

She laughed again. "Me? I'm a romantic. So maybe I'm seeing things that aren't there, just because I want them to be. They'd be a cute couple."

"Like you and Hamilton?"

Valeria smiled at me before her expression slipped into thoughtfulness. "Well, we are a cute couple but every relationship is different. I wasn't too sure of him when we first met."

"How did you two meet?" I asked, curious. I had very little experience with the various aspects of love, or at least as far as I remembered. In the Institute I had never come across as loving a couple as I had here in Sanctuary, watching Hamilton and Valeria interact. Perhaps it was because such interactions were not something the culture of the Institute allowed as a public exhibition. Or perhaps there was something lacking there that the people up here had found. In any case I had no examples to hold up and say 'this is what a person in love acts like' from my time before Sanctuary.

She looked at me archly. "Aren't we curious today? Well, if I'm going to tell a story I'm going to need another cup of coffee."

I rolled my eyes and reached for the cup she held out to me with a languid hand. "I don't think I even want to leave the house today," She mused. "Though that'll change if I miss breakfast."

"We have some time." I reminded her as I handed her the full cup and settled back into my chair.

She took a long sip, her eyes distant. "You know what happened to my sister."

I nodded.

"For a long time afterwards I was very angry. Angry at the world, at my parents, at my settlement for not being able to protect her properly. So I packed up what little I had and left it all behind, joined up with a caravan that was passing through and didn't look back. It wasn't a very good fit. They let me join in but I wasn't _one of them_ and couldn't be since I wasn't born to the life. After a while it started to get to me and after I got into a fight with one of the caravan leaders they made it clear I wasn't welcome anymore." She shrugged. "Not one of my better moments."

"They didn't just leave you on the road, did they?" I asked, caught up in the tale.

"No." She replied. "They dropped me at Diamond City, another place I didn't feel welcome. If you aren't one of the 'upper stands' or a shop owner you're pretty much nothing. I stayed there for about a week before I got tired of that and wanted to find something better. I was in Dugout Inn a short time after I made that decision, thinking over my options when this guy came wandering in."

Her eyes changed, becoming softer. "This gawky stork of a guy with a shock of red hair and a tattered coat. He walked up to the bar and ordered a drink then started asking Vadim, Vadim runs the place," She told me in case I didn't know, which I didn't. "He started asking Vadim if he knew of anyone willing to take an escort job. See, he'd heard of this new settlement starting up in the north and wanted some muscle to make sure he got there in one piece."

She grinned at me. "'Well,' I thought to myself, 'I've got nothing else to do, and nowhere else to be, so maybe I'll try my hand at being a merc.' See, I still had my gear from when I was in the caravan and I was pretty strong from hard labor so maybe I'd take the job and see what happened." Valeria chuckled and took another sip of her coffee. "So I put on this 'hard guy' persona and offered my services. I'll never forget the way he looked at me."

"He didn't believe you?"

"Oh no, he believed me. He looked _scared_ of me." She set down her empty cup and reached up to pull down her ponytail, letting her long blond hair fall around her shoulders while she finger-combed it out. "He turned so pale his freckles stood out like they'd been drawn on. But to give him credit he managed to ask a few questions before we settled on my fee and made arrangements to start out the next day."

I watched as Valeria gathered her hair and tied it back up, making, for a moment, her face look as hard as it must have been that day. "So there I am, standing at the gates with my pack over one shoulder and my gun over the other the next morning when he clanks up."

"Clanks?"

"His whole pack was covered in pots and pans and…I don't know, spoons and stuff." She smiled at the memory. "I remember thinking that he was going to make so much noise he was going to get the both of us killed before we got even ten feet down the road." She laughed. "I was really reconsidering my life choices at that point and pointed out to him that if he didn't want a target painted on his back he'd better do something about the noise. He was still scared of me at that point and cut himself with one of his knives while he was tearing apart one of his blankets. So I used one of the pieces to bind his wound and between the two of us we managed to tie everything down." She shrugged. "I'm not going to tell you about every close call because if I do that we really _will_ miss breakfast."

"So when did he stop being afraid of you?" I asked, though I really wanted to ask 'When did the two of you fall in love?'

"It's hard to pinpoint exactly when." She shrugged. "But I think it started when I asked how his hand was that first night then insisted on checking it to make sure it wasn't getting infected. Then when he cooked for me the first time, and when I offered to share my blanket since his got shredded. I discovered that he was kind and generous." She smiled fondly. "A lot of little things that added up to something big." Her smile grew. "When we finally got here he asked me to stay and I knew there was nowhere else I wanted to be."

Her coffee cup clattered against the scarred tabletop. "And speaking of where I want to be," She stood up and brushed off the front of her coveralls. "I'm finding this urge right now to head on over to breakfast with a side of Hamilton."

"That was figurative, right?" I grabbed her cup and made a detour to the sink to deposit our dishes. I smiled to myself when I heard her laughing out the door.

* * *

There was a small vegetable patch next to our workstation, nothing much more than a few tato plants and a muttfruit bush. Certainly there was nothing there of much interest to a general or a mercenary. Nonetheless there they were, ostensibly looking over the rather wilted bush and talking in quiet voices. Or rather MacCready was talking, and the General was listening with a close attention.

I glanced at Sturges but he, as was usual, paid no attention to anything but the piece of tech currently occupying his workbench.

I snuck glances over at them, trying not to be too obvious about it. I had never seen MacCready look so uncomfortable before. But whatever he was trying to say seemed important enough that he was overcoming his nervousness. The General looked serious as she listened, and a little surprised from time to time, which was almost a pleasant change from her recent expression of something restrained and painful.

Their voices were low and I made no attempt to overhear, though I was terribly curious. Finally the General clasped her hand on MacCready's shoulder. He tolerated it for a second before nodding, gratitude written plainly on his face. With that it seemed the conversation was over. MacCready walked away quickly, his shoulders loose in apparent relief. The General, however, stood looking thoughtfully at the little garden patch with what seemed to be undue attention for a long minute before wandering off in another direction.

Their expressions lingered in my mind as I hammered out another dent in the X0-1's chest piece. It was finally starting to resemble a working suit of power armor again, but it was going to be a slow process. Sturges and I worked with a sense of urgency as until we could get the armor repaired this was the only available suit in the entire settlement. It wasn't terribly likely that we would need it, but there was still a chance. I calculated the statistical odds in my head and didn't like how the numbers added up. What with what had happened to Joshua it seemed as though the Minuteman patrols were more frequent, like they were expecting further trouble. There were quiet discussions of new threats being spotted throughout the area but no one would commit to what they might be.

I didn't want to think about the world outside the walls of Sanctuary. I didn't want to think about threats coming over or through the walls. And yet I did. They crept up on me in quiet moments. Shadows lingered in the corners of my mind, watching and threatening. If I didn't keep myself distracted with work or conversation; other people's lives, stories or worries, my own would creep up on me.

I shook myself and turned my thoughts back to the armor.

* * *

At dinner that night I sat with Marie. She had been withdrawn lately. This attitude could have been her natural inclination or something she'd learned up here in the Commonwealth but she certainly wasn't volunteering that information or any other. I didn't know what the problem was and she was a private person who wouldn't appreciate me prying. I probably would never know.

MacCready walked in, plate in hand, and glanced at my table. I caught his eye and smiled. His face was serious but he took a few steps towards me before checking himself. He broke off eye contact and looked around before taking an unoccupied seat at a crowded table. I felt a little pang in my chest and found my forehead furrowing as I turned my gaze back to my plate.

"It's me." Marie said.

I snapped my gaze to her, brow still furrowed in confusion.

"It's not that he decided not to sit with you," She said. Her plate was empty, she had eaten as quickly as ever, and her fingers tapped a nervous rhythm against the food-soiled rim. "He didn't want to sit near me."

"Ah." The tight feeling in my chest eased. "I see."

She shrugged, pushing her plate away. "I know what you're thinking."

I stared at her, my eyes widening. "You do?" Was she another like Mama Murphy? Had all my thoughts been transparent to her?

She continued as though I had not spoken. "And I'm not going to apologize to him."

I felt myself relax as that had not been what I was thinking at all. It must have been a non-literal observation. I wasn't very good at discerning those.

Marie was looking at me as though gauging my reaction.

"I wasn't thinking that you should." I ventured. Though perhaps if she did the iciness between the two of them would thaw a bit and they wouldn't have to cross to opposite sides of the road if one saw the other approaching. Sustained animosity seemed to be very tiring. Ah, I thought, perhaps I should say that. But before I could formulate that thought into a proper response she spoke again.

"And he understands that."

"Really?" I asked, intrigued. "How do you know?"

"Because he's like me." She said, scowling when she saw my eyebrows lift. "Look at how he eats, no, without being obvious about it!" She snapped when I twisted in my seat.

I rolled my eyes and turned slightly to peer out the corners. MacCready was hunched over his plate, one arm curved protectively around it, shoveling food into his mouth without seeming to pause to chew or breathe. It was a wonder he was so thin what with the amount he seemed to consume.

"He didn't grow up with enough to eat. He might have had to fight for it, or defend his own plate from others. I don't know, I'm just guessing. But I do know he should be a bigger man than he is."

I cocked a questioning eyebrow at her.

She shrugged. "He has big hands, almost out of proportion." She tapped her own hand on the table. "He most likely is incapable of gaining mass at this point."

"That's why he's so thin?" I asked.

She nodded.

I thought back to the previous meal, and all the others that Marie and I had shared. Now that I thought about it their eating habits were remarkably similar. But other than that…

"I'm afraid I don't understand. You eat similarly but how does that make him like you?"

She looked angry for some reason. "Usually when you have to fight for your food it means you had to fight for everything else. You fight, and you never, ever apologize."

"But why not?"

She looked even angrier. "Because that would mean you'd have to acknowledge you were wrong. It would make it seem like you were _weak_. The weak don't survive. They don't deserve food, or shelter, or clothing or _anything_." She stopped herself, her breath coming hard for a minute. She seemed to deliberately calm herself, closing her eyes until her breaths became deep and regular.

She stood abruptly and grabbed her empty plate. "It took me a long time to overcome that way of thinking." She jerked her head in MacCready's direction, where he continued to eat, oblivious. "I doubt he has."

I leaned back and watched her stomp over to deposit her plate in the sink.

I imagined my face was, as they would put it, a picture, as I wondered what had brought that speech on. Had she been trying to tell me something, or teach me something? Or had she been looking for a reason to vent her views upon a willing, or unwilling ear.

Even though I wasn't sure what she had told me was true her words kept running through my mind even after I finished my dinner and went back to the house for a restless night's sleep.

* * *

The child had a pinched, cold face, hollow cheeks and a furrowed brow. Thin hands and sticklike arms reached out to me. I reached out to gather the child close but every time I did its arms slid away from me as though made of smoke and oil. I kept trying, again… again… until tears started running down my cheeks. When they fell upon the child's face it melted away like ink from a droplet of water and faded to nothing.

An emptiness filled me, as though I too were made of nothing more than smoke. I looked up and saw faces surrounding me, their expressionless eyes still somehow conveying judgement. Their hands reached out to me and all of a sudden I felt as solid as the child had been insubstantial. They towed me through decaying windowless rooms into endless impersonal hallways. Rot tinged brick became cold, cool seamless white. I tried to dig in my heels, but found I could not. I no longer had control of my body.

No, it wasn't even mine any longer. It was someone else's and I was just inhabiting it, a powerless observer. I wasn't even able to move my eyes, my vision narrowing to whatever was directly in front of me as I was spun around and placed in a chair that pierced my spine. I wasn't even able to cry out at the pain of it.

Something touched my arm, and it all melted away, like ink…from a droplet…of water…

I woke up with a gasp as something cold touched my cheek. My eyelids flew open and I darted them around the room just to make sure that I still could. Another drop of water made its way through the patches on the roof and hit me between the eyes. I relished that I could flinch from the shock of it even as I tried to calm myself for my heart was still racing far too quickly than was normal.

There was no possibility that I would be able to achieve down time again so I swung myself out of bed, planting my feet on the cold floor and taking deep breaths.

It had been a while since I'd had such a vivid dream. Such a terrible, vivid dream.

I clenched my toes against the rough floor, letting the sensation ground me further. No. That wasn't enough. I reached out and snagged my ragged leather coat from where I had carefully folded it on the unoccupied bed. My arms slid into the sleeves with practiced, unconscious movements and I hugged it around me for along moment before reaching for my boots.

It definitely would need another patch, I thought, looking critically up at the bit of roof above my sleeping chamber. It was dark, but no longer raining. It must have taken some time for the water to work its way down and drop onto me.

Sanctuary was quiet around me, a few distant, soft voices; security changing shifts I assumed, given the time. The widely spaced street lamps gave everything a soft, hazy glow. The turrets chattered away as usual, but I was so used to that by now that I was able to tune them out from the other night noises around me. It should have been unnerving, the quiet, but I found it rather comforting since it didn't feel empty. I _knew_ that inside the house Maria and probably Valeria slept. I knew that the other houses were occupied by dreaming people or those content in oblivious darkness.

I caught a flash from one of the catwalks and knew I had been noted. I nodded at the unseen watcher and pushed my hands deep in my pockets, walking slowly down the middle of the street.

It was so different at night.

The light of a small lantern near my work station shone like a tiny beacon and I gravitated towards it.

 _Look for the lantern._

The words, nearly forgotten, rang clear in my head as though Z1 had once again murmured them in my ear. I shook my head as I walked closer, intent on snuffing out the flame. One of us had been careless to leave it burning precious oil while no one was around to benefit.

"Is this was he was talking about?" I murmured to myself, half serious. Then I snorted, the corner of my mouth curling up into a self-deprecating smirk. "Now I'm talking to myself." I laughed, bending to take the chimney and douse the flame.

"Sometimes we're our own best audience." Came a voice in the darkness.

I jumped and nearly fumbled the glass chimney, catching it just before it hit the concrete. With a gasp I held the warm, almost too warm, glass to myself, backing toward the nearest light pole.

"Aw, geez. I'm sorry." The voice came closer. "Another dramatic entrance just _ruined._ " Deacon stepped out into the small pool of light. It flickered in the breeze, casting unsettling flashes against his dark glasses.

"Deacon!" I tried to relax, but my eyes flicked to follow the dancing light uneasily. I clutched the chimney to myself protectively.

"The one and only." He replied easily, though I noticed he had stopped approaching me, doubtless noticing my unease.

A dozen comments hovered on the tip of my tongue as I tore my eyes away from his glasses. I wanted to ask where he'd been. I wanted to tell him what the General had said she was going to do to him when he came back. I wanted to ask if she had been serious about any of those things or whether they would even be physically possible. Instead I found myself asking. "Where's the T-45?"

He rubbed the back of his head, sheepish. Then his hand dropped and he grinned at me. "Oh, you're never gonna believe me when I tell you. But I swear it's a great story and one hundred percent true."

I eyed him skeptically as he spun a tale involving being accidentally recruited by the Brotherhood of Steel and sent on a mission to clear out a nest of at least ten, no, twenty, no, now that he thought about it, _fifty_ super mutants and just as he had finished taking out the ringleader singlehandedly, mind, he had fallen through the floor into a ghoul infested sewer.

My eyebrows climbed higher and higher as he continued and by the time he was finished I was staring at him in disbelief.

"Really?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Aw, c'mon. Would I lie?" He asked, from where he had settled down on the concrete across from me, both of us cross-legged with the lantern flickering its uncertain light between us. "It's not like I just got out of it and forgot where I left it."

I shook my head.

"That would make a terrible story."


	8. Part 8

I Synth pt. 8

Morning broke, one of those rosy mornings that seemed to promise a pleasant day, a welcome change from the day before. Deacon and I watched it from the small arrangement of chairs in the workshop area, both of us tired but unable, or unwilling to sleep. Me, because of my nightmare, Deacon for reasons he didn't seem to be inclined to share.

I watched him as he leaned back in the worn chair, tilting it precariously on its back legs. His brow was furrowed, his mouth turned down thoughtfully at the corners until he noticed me watching and both smoothed out into his usual easy expression.

"Something wrong?" He asked.

I shook my head, then changed my mind and nodded. "Will she…will you be…" I lifted my hands, unable to formulate my thoughts.

"You worried about me?" He asked gently, his smile turning softer.

"She was really angry." I said in a small voice.

He let the chair fall back to its normal resting position with a thump. "You're a good kid." He said, watching me closely until I shrugged and looked away. "You remind me of someone I knew once." Now it was his turn to shrug, almost uncomfortably.

"A friend?" I asked.

He gave a pained laugh. "Not really. Just someone I knew." He stood and stretched before rolling his neck. "How mad?"

"She threatened to hang you by your toes from the power lines."

"Yeah, ouch." He grimaced. "That's bad. We're going to try and avoid that."

"That would be wise." I told him seriously. "You may not want to go alone."

He grinned at me. "Volunteering to be my bodyguard?"

"MacCready says volunteering is bad for business." I replied, a touch of humor making my lips curl up and easing my anxiety.

"Curse him and his little mercenary heart."

I heard stirring in the other section of the house. Deacon must have as well because he glanced toward the shadowed doorway. A minute later Sturges emerged, giving the two of us a comprehensive look and evincing no surprise at Deacon's reappearance.

"The T-45?" He asked.

"Yeah, well." Deacon backed casually towards the door. "About that…"

"You lost it, didn't you?"

"Define 'lost'."

"Lost bein' you don't have it anymore." Sturges' expression turned stormy.

Deacon was almost out the door by now. "When you put it that way…" He disappeared around the corner.

Sturges sighed and rubbed his hand over his face before looking at me.

I couldn't think of anything to say so I took Deacon's cue and retreated strategically.

I caught up with Deacon on the street. He paused his step so I could fall in next to him. "Changed your mind about volunteering?" From this angle I could see he was looking at me from the corner of his eye. His eyes were pale blue, almost gray, I discovered.

I shrugged. "Someone will have to cut you down."

He startled me by breaking out into a deep genuine laugh and patting me on top of my head. "Very neighborly of you." He snorted.

I ducked my head with a smile. It seemed I was getting the hang of humor.

"Just stay casual." Deacon told me a moment later. I looked up to see the General's familiar figure emerging from the house near the gates. She was dressed casually this morning in a dress not unlike my own but in cream rather than pink. She stretched in the morning sun, running her fingers through her dark hair.

I glanced up at the man beside me to see his jaw clench, though his posture remained loose.

She turned to glance up the street and I saw the change in her the moment she saw who I was walking beside. Everything about her froze before she slowly lowered her arms.

I tucked my hair behind my ears, seriously considering putting more distance between Deacon and I as we got closer. The General didn't move as we approached, only turning her head slightly to follow our progress. When we were still a few feet away, Deacon reached out a hand without looking and pushed against my arm, signaling me to wait behind.

"Den, you're looking well this morning."

She stared at him, all of her considerable attention focused. I wanted to squirm and she wasn't even looking at me.

Deacon cleared his throat. "Ah. I hear you had quite a trip."

She kept staring, her face set and cold.

"All's well that ends well?"

A muscle twitched in her cheek. I fought urge to back away slowly and felt a desperate admiration for Deacon's ability to stand there under the force of her stare. The few other early risers wisely gave the three of us a wide berth.

The General took a deep, shuddering breath. Suddenly expressions flitted across her face, too quickly for me to understand. Except…

Valeria was right.

Did Deacon know?

Even I could see it. There was no way he couldn't see it, regardless of the dark glasses. So, why...?

"You're not hurt." She said, her voice sharp.

I suddenly felt as though I were intruding on a fiercely private moment, regardless that the two of them were standing in the middle of the street. I backed off a few steps, glancing away.

"Well, my elbow makes this funny noise when I bend it like this, but other than that…"

"You knew I didn't want you to go."

He raised his hands.

"Damn you."

"Been there, done that."

Her whole body tensed. "Don't."

He shrugged, but didn't look away. I'd never seen him so serious.

A hand grasped my arm, tugging me away. I struggled against the grip, looking up to see MacCready looking grim, his gaze on Deacon and the General. "Come on," He growled at me.

I grimaced up at him, and he tilted his head down to look at me, his shadowed eyes narrowed. "You don't need to be involved. And they don't need an audience."

"I told Deacon I'd make sure she didn't hang him from the power lines."

MacCready looked at me incredulously before barking out a rusty sounding laugh. He continued tugging me away. "C'mon."

I allowed him to pull me away, but looked back over my shoulder. I could see the General's hands flexing at her sides. Was she trying not to hit him? Abruptly she stepped forward, one hand reaching up to curl around Deacon's bicep. He stiffened.

"Don't." She said, her voice choked with emotion. She looked up at him. "Please don't scare me like that again."

I don't know how he responded because by then MaCcready had ushered me into the dining area and deposited me into one of the mismatched chairs. I dropped with a thump and glared at him. He replied by pointing a warning finger at me.

"Stay."

I blinked at his retreating back as he made his way to the counter and returned with two plates containing whatever was on the menu for breakfast that morning. He slid one of the plates in front of me and sat heavily in the other chair.

I kept staring at him.

He pulled his cap off and ran his fingers through his unruly thatch of hair before replacing it and pulling his own plate close. "Eat." He ordered.

"What are you doing?" I asked, scowling and pulling my plate closer. I took as vicious bite.

"Besides trying to eat?" He replied between mouthfuls of food. "You're not helping, by the way."

I made a face at him.

He refused to answer until the final bits of food had disappeared from his plate. I picked at my own food, not terribly hungry. Whoever was cook this morning it was definitely not Hamilton, for nothing tasted quite as good as usual. MacCready didn't seem to notice the difference, I thought as I watched him sop up the last of the smears of food with a piece of bread.

He pushed his plate away and tapped one hand on the table impatiently as he watched me eat. For some reason that made me want to slow down my consumption even more. Finally he tired of waiting for me to finish.

"I don't want her distracted." He said.

"The General?" I asked.

He made an impatient noise, as though irritated that I even needed to ask. "She's… well, we need to…" He growled deep in his throat. "You don't even need to know why. I just don't want her distracted right now. It's important."

I raised an eyebrow at him but he just glared back at me.

He appeared to try and find appropriate words before he stood abruptly and grabbed his plate. "She's doing me a favor and I don't want her distracted so they need some time to hash this out. Without interference." He ground out with a significant look and an air of finality before stalking away.

I watched him go, rather confused, and took a few more bites of my breakfast. A few moments passed and Steve came by with a questioning look. I gestured to the empty seat with a smile and the ghoul made himself comfortable.

"What was that all about?" He asked in his gravelly voice, gesturing over his shoulder with his fork at MacCready, who was depositing his dish in the wash bucket.

I thought about it for a long minute before shaking my head. "I have no idea."

Steve grinned his ghoulish smile at me. I smiled back, rather ruefully.

"Are they still out there?" I asked him, gesturing toward the road.

"Nah, they moved their lovers' spat inside." He chuckled once he had chewed and swallowed his current mouthful of food.

"Lovers?' I repeated weakly.

"An expression. Although…" He waggled his non-existent eyebrows at me, smirking. "That's one way to settle an argument."

* * *

Thankfully the power lines remained free of hanging bodies throughout the day and I allowed myself to believe that Deacon had convinced the General to be lenient. Sturges had a new project that kept me, and several others, occupied. I wasn't much help other than reading out the printed specifications and letting the others, a metal worker and mason named Darla and Ross respectively, know what went where.

"No electronics involved in this one." Sturges said, looking over the mechanism. "Good old clockwork."

"What is it?" I asked, as Darla soldered the last metal pinnings in place.

"We'll do a demonstration as soon as I'm sure nothing's goin' to blow up."

Dabbers, who had been dancing from foot to foot nearby, eager to have a go at whatever it was, stopped and took a step back. Sturges looked at him with a slow grin before bending to check the various pieces of the mechanism. Finally he nodded. "Everythin' looks good."

He gestured at Dabbers, who was now looking rather doubtful, and the young man stepped forward hesitantly. "You're up."

"I'm not sure…" Dabbers dithered.

"You're the one who wanted first go at it."

"That's before I knew about the 'blowing up' part."

I nodded in agreement, having already resolved to place myself a fair distance away as the device was tested.

"You think I'd let you try it if I didn't know it was safe?" Sturges asked. "You're hurtin' my feelings."

Dabbers looked as though someone had stolen his boots.

"Hey, Annette?" Sturges looked at me.

"Yes?"

"Can you fetch the General?" He asked. "She wanted to know when it was ready."

I nodded and ran off towards the General's house. After knocking politely on the door and receiving an invitation to enter I walked in and found the General at the counter, the cream dress of the morning replaced by what looked like a body suit overlaid by various pieces of armor. In her hands was a partially disassembled rifle. She was leaving again, I thought.

The General raised her eyebrows at me in question.

"Sturges wanted you to know it's ready." I told her and her expression smoothed.

"Good." She slid the pieces of her weapon back together and stowed it under the counter before moving to join me.

I led the way, but could not resist glancing around for signs of the absent Deacon before we moved outside.

The General smiled at me, but her eyes were…not cool, but something else I couldn't quite place behind her glasses. "You won't find the body." She told me.

I missed a step and almost tripped over a pile of leafy debris in the road.

"Whoa." The General caught my arm and kept me upright. "Careful there." She waited until I was steady before releasing my arm and shooting me a rueful smile. "He's asleep."

I exhaled in relief.

She shook her head at me. "He told me you were ready to go to bat for him."

"Go to bat?" I asked.

"Ah, never mind." She sighed. "So he told you he lost the T-45?"

I nodded, but felt compelled to add. "But he really couldn't help it, what with all that happened."

The General looked surprised. "Oh?" she asked carefully.

* * *

I couldn't figure out why the general couldn't seem to stop laughing. As soon as she had seemed to gain control of herself and was trying to listen attentively to whatever Sturges was telling her she would glance at me and I would see the corners of her mouth tremble before she was off again.

"Ah, I'm sorry." She apologized for the fourth time, "So you're saying there were no problems, Sturges?"

I could see the corners of her mouth tremble again, as they had ever since I relayed Deacon's tale to her. How she could find so much humor in his trials was a mystery to me. That being said, it was good to see laughter in her eyes to replace the bleak coldness that had been there so often since her return.

"None at all, ma'am." He replied.

"We haven't had any issues with the ones at the Castle, either, but it's good to be certain." She walked around the contraption that rested solidly atop its concrete base. "What range would you say?"

"About as far as Twilight to the south." Sturges told her after mulling it over. He rattled off a few more place names that I vaguely recognized from my glimpses at some of the General's maps.

She was nodding by the end. "That gives me a good idea of how spread out I can make them. Takes a lot of work and resources to get one of these things assembled. Good job getting it done so quickly." She nodded at Darla and Ross who still hovered nearby. Darla nodded back stoically while Ross grinned, his round cheeks turning pink.

I saw her head turn toward me before she hastily stopped herself. "So who's our artillery man?"

"That'd be Dabbers, here." Sturges prodded the lanky young man forward. "First shift, anyhow."

The General smiled warmly at him. "Well then, to your post, soldier."

"Y-yes, ma'am." He stammered, clambering up and stationing himself at the wheel.

The General rummaged in her pockets. "Now all you need to do is turn the wheels to aim. The one in front of you is direction, right one is elevation. Once you've got it dialed in hit the firing mechanism." She finally held out what looked like a flare. "Shouldn't need more than what is in the first payload. If we do…" She gave fierce grin, "then we're in _real_ trouble."

We watched as the General walked down towards the bank of the river, flare in hand. She drew back and threw it far onto the other shore, an impressive distance. As she walked back the flare began to throw up a plume of white smoke.

"All right, Dabbers, dial it in."

The nervous looking young man spun the wheels, raising the barrel of the device and swinging it to point towards the plume.

"You got it?"

"I think so, ma'am." He replied.

She paused. "Everyone stand behind the artillery…just as a precaution." She waved us all back. "All right, let her go."

We waited.

Dabbers hit the firing mechanism.

The resulting boom had me covering my ears with my hands and shaking my head in an attempt to clear the ringing in my ears. I opened my eyes just in time to see the opposite bank of the river explode, rocks and debris flying everywhere. Half the residents came running to gape.

"Are we under attack?" One demanded breathlessly, gun in hand.

Another explosion cut off the General's response. She tried again. "Testing out some new artillery, folks, sorry about the scare."

Some grumbled about being warned beforehand when a tree across the way was reduced to splinters and the grumbles turned into impressed murmurs.

"Like to see raiders try and stand against that!" Someone exclaimed and I had to nod my head in agreement.

"The idea is our little show will keep that from happening," The General replied with a satisfied smile.

* * *

That evening I watched as she left the settlement, MacCready at her heels. I could faintly hear his complaints about traveling in the dark as they disappeared into the falling twilight.

As I sat on one of the benches, watching one of the traveling traders tend to their pack brahmin Deacon meandered up next to me, his traveling leathers exchanged for the yellow and grey quasi-uniform of the Minutemen. I glanced up at him, squinting in the dim light.

"Something on my face?" He asked.

I shook my head, scooting over to make room for him to sit. He did so, leaving plenty of space between us.

"You've settled in well." He told me quietly after we both had spent some minutes in quiet reflection.

I tried to keep my expression blank.

"Just saying." He leaned back, tilting his head to the sky. "It's good for a soul to have a place to belong."

 _You belong to the Institute. Never forget that._

"Do you?" I asked, trying to silence the memory.

He cocked a questioning eyebrow at me.

"Have a place you belong, I mean." I continued.

"What makes you think I don't belong here, in Sanctuary?' He asked, humor in his voice.

I shrugged. "I don't know."

He was silent for a long minute, staring out at the night. "Some people belong at a place, or with a person, or in a memory." He stood. "The lucky ones get two out of three. Dinner?"

I nodded, pondering his words, and his lack of a straight answer, as we moved out of the quiet night into the bustling dining area.


	9. Part 9

I, Synth pt 9

* * *

It wasn't more than a week before the General returned with MacCready in tow. I missed their entrance, as I was helping Sturges with the installation of a new generator.

The plans had been sent via our replacement provisioner, Nicole and, according to her, were making the rounds of all the settlements in the Commonwealth. I was a little nervous about working with the device, as it was powered by nuclear materials, but Sturges assured me it would be safe. Our next step would be to disassemble many of the smaller generators scattered around the settlement, which would cut down on the noise a great deal. I kept telling myself that as I donned the haz-mat suit that we had appropriated from the store room, and gingerly took the nuclear material the General had carefully, I hoped, gathered for purposes such as these in the tongs Sturges, similarly suited, handed to me.

The green glowing cylinder seemed to pulse menacingly as I and placed the nuclear material into the aperture, where it settled into its slot with a click. I quickly stepped aside as Sturges pushed the door shut and sealed it.

"Well, that's that." Sturges said in his matter-of-fact way, his voice muffled by the helmet covering his entire head. "We'll have the doc check us out, but I don't think we absorbed much radiation. No more than from a rad-storm, anyway."

I nodded, the gesture somewhat lost in my own voluminous headwear.

"That's a new look for the both of you." Came a familiar voice.

Sturges and I looked up to see the General standing a distance away, her rifle over her shoulder. MacCready slouched next to her, more relaxed than I had ever seen him before. The corner of his mouth twitched up in a smirk as he gave the two of us a once-over.

Sturges reached up and removed his hood. "Welcome back, General." He reached over and fiddled with a few dials on the control panel before flipping a switch that sent the small nuclear generator humming to life. He nodded to me and I reached over to turn off the large fuel generator that had powered this section of Sanctuary. There was a small hiccup when the power drain switched over to rely on the nuclear generator, but it was for but a moment and the new device took over the task without a hitch.

Sturges smirked over at the General, dusting his hands of showily as she applauded. "Well done."

"It wasn't as simple as assembling something like an artillery gun, say, but it should be doable as long as you have someone skilled enough to put it all together."

The General grimaced thoughtfully, but my eyes went from her to the oddly quiet MacCready. He had a distant look in his eyes, as though he were thinking of something far away or long ago.

The General's voice brought my attention back to her. "Unfortunately most of our settlements don't have engineers as skilled as the two of you." I hadn't realized when I had become an engineer rather than a mechanic, but I wasn't going to question the change in designation. The General shook her head. "I'm going to wash the road dust and feral ghoul out of my hair then think on it after I've gotten some sleep and a meal or two."

She started to walk away before turning back. "Deacon around?"

I nodded. "I last saw him helping out in the large garden this morning." Now I watched as a memory flickered across _her_ eyes before she nodded as well and headed off with a small smile for MacCready as she passed him. He smiled back.

I felt my eyebrows climb up my forehead.

MacCready caught my expression and his brow furrowed. "What?" He demanded.

I shook my head, but his mulish expression told me he wasn't going to accept a non-committal answer. "You seem happier, I guess."

Now it was his turn to look surprised, and maybe a little sheepish. He rubbed one hand over the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess I am. Relieved, anyway." He shrugged and looked away. "I'm gonna follow the General's example and get cleaned up." He said uncomfortably, before turning and stalking away.

* * *

The General waved me over when I went to get my evening meal, waiting patiently through Valeria and Hamilton's flirtation ritual before retrieving my plate and cautiously moving through the maze of chairs and tables to join her, Deacon and MacCready. I set my plate down and shyly took one of the empty chairs. A minute later I saw the General gesture someone else over and Sturges took the last empty seat. He glanced around the table.

"This about that lack of engineers?" He asked. "Lemme guess, you want one of us to go traveling around and help the others get themselves put together."

The General grinned. "Got it in one." She took a bite from her plate, chewed and swallowed before continuing. "What I hope is once we've trained a few of the others they can pass it along to the rest. The best way to do that is to go there rather than have them come here."

"Wouldn't it be faster to have a group of them travel here, train them all together?" I asked.

"Faster, maybe. More practical, certainly." She shook her head, taking a sip of her drink. "But not safer. Most of our settlements only have one or two people skilled enough to learn what you have to teach. A loss of any one of them would be catastrophic."

"Where there are two of us here, so one is expendable." Sturges pointed out easily.

She made a face. "If you want to put it that way."

Silence reigned.

Sturges grimaced. "You know my place is here, General. But I hate to put this one on Annette."

The General turned her attention to me. "Are you all right with this? I don't want to send you if you're not."

"I won't say I'm not nervous. But I understand the need." I responded. I heard a snort behind me at this statement and turned to see MacCready's incredulous look.

"She won't last a minute on the road." He said baldly, his empty plate telling of his silence up to this point.

"I got here all right." I pointed out to him.

"Dumb luck." He sneered before turning to the General. "Denali, she won't survive. You've gotta rethink this one."

His superior tone made me bristle, but he gave me a look that told me very eloquently to keep my mouth shut.

"I think you underestimate her." The General said, her voice pacifying. "But I'd never intended to send her out there alone. A small group…well, two would be able to move quickly and quietly. Deacon's the master of that." She almost, but didn't quite, glance at the man sitting next to her. "But I need him elsewhere to take care of some…other matters. So I'll need to find someone else."

"What, one of your security people?" MacCready scoffed. "The only thing they're good at is making sure nothing climbs over the walls. And even then…" He made no effort to keep his voice down and I saw a few glares from the off duty sentries directed his way. He ignored them.

The General sat back, hands folded against her stomach and a mild look in her eyes. "Then who would you suggest? Should I send her with the provisioners?"

"Glorified brahmin herders." He snorted.

Deacon made an odd noise and I looked over just in time to see him hide an amused smile.

I turned my attention to my plate and tried to ignore the odd sensation of my ears turning hot. A hand patted my shoulder gently and I looked to see Sturges learning towards me. I tilted my ear towards him and just heard him murmur, "Watch a master at work." out of the corner of his mouth.

He shrugged off my quizzical glance and tilted his head ever so slightly in the General's direction.

"I would send Preston, but he's at the Castle at the moment." The General mused aloud. "And Nick's still in Diamond City. Piper…"

"Those are the best you can do?" MacCready snarled.

The General gave him an innocent look. "Maybe Codsworth would be willing."

"You may as well send the dam…darned dog!" MacCready exploded, shooting out of his chair to lean over the table towards the General, who watched him, unmoved. "You know I'm the only option!"

The General's mouth twitched. "Well, then. Thank you for volunteering."

MacCready froze, his mouth working before he flung himself down in his chair in what could only be described as a sulk.

I couldn't help the giggle that escaped me and shook my head when he glared at me. "Bad business." I told him, mischief in my voice. He looked away, but not before I saw a grudging smile touch his thin mouth.

"Well." The General said cheerfully. "Now that that's decided, let's enjoy our meal." She lifted her glass and I hastily fumbled for mine, copying her movements. "To good food, good company, good travels…"

"And good luck." Deacon finished with a humorous smile before we drank.

* * *

The possible consequences didn't hit me until later that night when I was alone in my room. What would happen if I left Sanctuary? My task had been very clear in one aspect; I was to go to Sanctuary and become one of its settlers. I was to blend in. Nothing was ever said about what would happen if I left, even if I intended to return shortly.

I sat up in my bed and pulled my knees close to my chest as I stared at the uncertain shadows beyond the door curtain.

Would they know?

I had left Sanctuary before but only a short distance, never farther than the Red Rocket settlement.

Would they think I was running away?

I didn't want to run away from Sanctuary. It had become a home to me, much more than the Institute had ever been, or ever could be. I had people here who made me feel that I mattered. That I was an individual. That I was a _person._

Where would I even go?

I knew little to nothing about what went on beyond Sanctuary's walls, only stories and a few scattered, largely incoherent memories. I wanted to _see_ , if only for a little while.

But even so…

What would I do if they came after me, if the SRB sent their Coursers? Would they take me back to the Institute or would they send me back to Sanctuary so I could complete my unknown purpose.

And what would happen if they did come?

I buried my face against my knees. And if they did it wasn't only me who was in danger, there was the possibility that MaCready would get caught in the crossfire. I didn't want him to be hurt because of me.

Then a treacherous thought invaded. If they did come…

Would he even fight for me?

* * *

"Nervous?" Valeria asked me as I pulled everything out of my pack onto the coffee table one more time before carefully packing it back in again to make room for the med kit that the silent Marie had handed me.

"A little bit." I admitted, shifting my extra coverall to the side. Just enough room. The activity of making sure everything fit just right wasn't quite doing the job of taking my mind off the doubts, and the dream, I had the night before.

No. I took a deep breath. I wouldn't remember it. If I pushed it far enough away it wouldn't come back to visit my waking thoughts. The dream had hurt. I still felt an odd emptiness in the center of my chest…I had lost…something…

NO.

I took another deep breath and pulled the ties at the top of the pack shut before reaching for my bedroll and strapping it on top.

"No clanking?" Valeria asked.

I smiled at her gratefully. "No clanking." I assured her, standing and checking the lay of the new weapon in the holster at my hip. The .44 revolver was rather heavier than my pipe pistol, and I found its more substantial presence reassuring. The General had pressed it upon me the day before, insisting that anyone traveling outside the settlements should be armed with something more effective than a pipe pistol, and as I had had no experience with rifles, as far as I knew, or the heavier weapons in the arsenal, a .44 it was. She had admonished me to use it sparingly, as the ammunition for the weapon was difficult to come by, to which I responded I would rather not have to use it at all, which made her laugh.

I tucked that memory away as I pulled the flap of my jacket back over to cover the holster. Valeria stood next to me and gently untucked my hair, which had grown longer over the months, long enough to brush against my shoulders, from behind my ears.

"You'll be fine." She told me. "It's not like you haven't traveled before."

Yeah, a few miles…my treacherous thoughts interjected. "And I'm not going alone."

Valeria gave me a not-subtle nudge and a wink. "Traveling together is a good way to get to know someone better."

Marie busied the herself checking the straps on my pack. "Not sure how much there is left to learn. Stubborn."

She must have missed the look Valeria and I exchanged because she continued muttering unflattering descriptors under her breath as she tested buckles. "Feel okay? Nothing digging in?"

"No, it's fine," I replied.

"You have plenty of socks? Don't let him push you on without changing them if your feet get wet."

"I won't."

She fussed around me for a few minutes more in the way, I had learned, was her manner of expressing concern and affection, until a call of "Aren't you ready yet?" From just outside the door interrupted her.

"I'll be out in a moment." I called back.

"Well, don't let me rush you or anything." Came the sarcastic answer.

The three of us rolled our eyes nearly in unison, which prompted a fit of giggles as Marie finished off my packing by hooking the helmet of my hazmat suit off the back of my pack. I shrugged a few times to make sure everything was settled before turning.

"Thank you, Marie. I feel very well prepared."

She shrugged. "Just make sure you don't injure yourself out there and we'll call it even. Who knows what passes for medicine at those other settlements. Oh, and don't let Doc Weathers anywhere near you if you pass on the road. If he's a real doctor then I'm a molerat's auntie."

"I will keep that in mind." I assured her before turning towards Valeria. She gave me a warm hug.

"Take care of yourself." She said.

"We're not going too far." I assured her, "And I'll be back before you know it."

"Just don't let that MacCready guy boss you around too much." Marie told me as Valeria released her grip. "And make sure he knows to keep his distance."

"Unless, you know…you don't want him to." Valeria chimed in, eyes twinkling. "It can get cold at night on the road." I could feel color rising in my cheeks and patted them in an effort to keep them from turning too pink.

Marie shot Valeria a withering glare.

"I'd better go." I told them, moving toward the door in order to forestall more advice or argument. Besides I was concerned that MacCready's irritation levels would rise the longer I lingered. Indeed, as I exited he was standing in the middle of the road, staring at me irritably, arms folded across his chest.

"Hope you didn't have to cut your conversation short on my account." he commented snidely.

I sighed and turned to close the door behind me, glimpsing Valeria's thumbs-up gesture just before it swung shut quietly and smoothly, one of the perks of living in the same home as a carpenter.

"No, of course not." I finally replied, keeping my face free of expression as I turned back around and walked down the few steps to join MacCready on the road.

"Have everything?" He asked as we fell into step. "I don't want to be halfway to Abernathy just to find you've forgotten your hairbrush."

"I have everything I need to take with me." I told him patiently. "The General told me that the settlements we will visit already have the supplies we need for construction."

His irritation simmered in the set of his shoulders and jaw.

"I'm sorry." I sighed.

"What for?"

"That you feel forced to be my escort." I shrugged, letting my discomfort show as I brushed my hair behind my ears.

"Nobody forces me to do anything." He growled, but I noticed the tension of his shoulders had eased considerably.

Ah, that was what he wanted. My acknowledgment that he had been tricked into guiding an inexperienced civilian around the Concord area of settlements. He more than likely felt, and rightly too, that I'd have to be hand-led around the dangers of the world outside Sanctuary. I understood and felt woefully unprepared. Despite the memories the Institute had implanted in my mind I had no practical experience with anything we might encounter, except for feral ghouls. I hadn't accounted too badly for myself in that confrontation at least.

By the time I reached this point in my ruminations we had reached the gates of Sanctuary. Trashcan Carla was already there, her bodyguards surrounding her and her brahmin plodding pacifically at her heels as the small caravan headed off through the doors that gently fell closed behind them.

Steve gave me a smile and a wave from his guard post near the gates. I waved back, summoning up a small smile of my own in answer. No one else would be there to see us off. MacCready had wanted to wait until after breakfast to set out and the General and Deacon had been gone long before _that_ on whatever mysterious matters they needed to attend to.

MacCready paused just inside the gate and gave me a once-over. Everything from my boots to my pack to my coat were examined before he gave his grudging approval of my attire. "It'll do."

"Thank you." I replied and he gave me a searching look as if trying to find the sarcasm in my innocuous comment. I gave him an innocent look, daring him to find any.

He adjusted the set of his cap. "Ground rules before we set out. I say quiet, you go quiet. I say down, you hit the dirt, and if I say run, you run. I have more experience with this kind of thing and you need to respect that when I tell you to do something there's a da…a good reason." He looked at me for acknowledgement.

"I understand."

"Good, just make sure you remember it. I can't have you freezing up at the wrong moment and getting the both of us killed." He took the gun off his back and rested it across his arms. "We'll stop for the night when I say so. Not before and not after, and no whining that your feet hurt or that you're too tired. If you need toughening up then now's the time."

"Indeed."

He squinted at me before shrugging his shoulders and gesturing to the guards to open the gates before striding through. The gate on his side slammed shut on his heels and I glanced over to see one of the guards from the dining area tip her hat at MacCready as he spun around and glared. Steve had descended to hold open the other side and he gave me a warm, lipless smile as I passed. "Good luck, kid."

"Thank you, Steve." I replied.

"Make sure you get back here safe, you hear me?" He admonished, letting the gate close gently behind me and climbing back up to his post overlooking the bridge.

"I'll do my best."


	10. Part 10

I, Synth pt.10

* * *

The sun glared in my eyes. I squinted irritably at the mess of wires and gears of the generator I was working on, wishing they had at least put it in a more shaded area. I had to assume they had some obscure reason for placing the contraption right where in the morning the sun glared right on the metal parts, making them hot and difficult to handle, and was so shadowed in the evening that I had to work and instruct by uncertain lantern-light. Not every settlement we had visited was so well run and ordered as Sanctuary and Red Rocket.

That was something I had learned very quickly. Nordhagen Beach, I was finding, was one of those. It was apparent they were trying, but I think they suffered from not having a strong planner like Sturges, Preston or the General in residence.

I had learned quite a few things in the weeks we had been on the road. One was that MacCready didn't _like_ roads; too likely we would encounter someone with ill intentions. By necessity and watching him carefully I learned how to move quietly through grass and brush and never to broach a hill too quickly.

I learned that I really _really_ didn't like giant insects, and that fear translated into an almost pathological need to destroy them quickly and with great prejudice.

MacCready almost seemed impressed with how quickly I dispatched the group of bloatflies I had carelessly disturbed. But he merely reminded me to check my ammo before adjusting his hat and leading us on, me stumbling along behind him from the adrenaline let-down. He kindly didn't point out I was making more noise than an injured radstag for at least a mile before I got my bearings back.

I learned that he was meticulous about making camp on those rare occasions night fell when we weren't near a convenient settlement. He insisted we find something with a roof and wouldn't leave in the morning until he'd eaten and trimmed his facial hair with an old straight razor he kept in his boot.

He learned I was hopeless at cooking and took over the task with ill grace after I burned the first meal I attempted. He turned a little pink along his cheekbones when I complimented his cooking and claimed it was nothing special, but I thought he liked the praise.

He wasn't terribly trusting of the people we encountered, even in the settlements, where, presumably, everyone had come to try and make a new and better life. When we slept each night he insisted on a bed near mine and made sure he was sleeping nearer the door. Mostly we were in dormitory-sized rooms where everyone shared, but he insisted, even if it meant displacing someone else.

He learned that I had chronic nightmares even if he never mentioned it. Nearly nightly, for some reason, I would wake up in a cold sweat and see the glint of his open eyes watching me in the night. I was afraid I would say something to give myself away but despite that first night we had slept in the same room and he claimed I talked in my sleep nothing was repeated. In fact I suspected that he intervened once or twice when the dreams were particularly intense but I couldn't be certain. It would always be something vague like a touch on my shoulder or a stroke of my hair.

Perhaps he just wanted me to quiet down so he could sleep.

While I was working he would hover nearby looking threatening. When I asked him about his constant proximity he looked surprised.

"I'm here to keep you safe." He told me as though I should already know. Before I could feel pleased he continued, "You know how valuable a good engineer is? If someone snatched you I'd have to go get you back. That'd be a pain."

I had to admit after that I felt safer when he was nearby. Before I hadn't even considered that I would be regarded as a valued commodity to certain factions. Being thought of as a commodity reminded me too much of my life in the Institute and that, to be honest, I still was a tool to them. I was well aware that I was being used for something that I didn't even know.

A straggling lock of hair fell into my eyes and I tucked it behind my ear with and wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. I knew I would end up with oil on my face anyway, but I was trying to minimize contact.

"This piece needs to be put in before this one." I told my audience of one, gesturing to one part and then the other. "It seems like it should be the other way around, but you need to make sure to remember."

"Which ones?" Tomas asked. "I can't see."

Scooting back on my heels I pointed out the pieces again. I'd found occasionally one of my students tried my patience but Tomas was a special case. With him I always had to repeat myself and backtrack. He seemed to press in unnecessarily and I'd nicked my arm on a sharp edge once when he jostled too close.

"That doesn't make any sense." He protested.

"Yes. It doesn't. But if you do it the other way at best it won't work, at worst you'll cause a small nuclear explosion in the settlement." I could tell my impatience was fraying the edges of my even tone, but I was doing my best to keep it reigned in.

"I think you're exaggerating."

"And I don't recommend you try it to prove me wrong." I snapped.

I stayed on my heels, staring up at him as he looked taken aback. I was a little surprised myself to have lashed out. A deep breath did little to steady my nerves. I wasn't used to feeling this way and I wasn't sure what to do next.

A shadow fell over me, bringing some relief from the beating sun. I craned my head to see MacCready standing over me, his blue-eyed glare directed at the mutinous-looking Tomas. "I think it's time for a break." He said evenly, though there was an edge of threat to his voice. "Don't you, Annette?"

I took another deep breath. "Yes, of course. I think the heat is getting to us all."

He reached down to me, never once breaking gaze with Tomas.

I curled my fingers around his and let him lift me to my feet before turning to look at Tomas. "Go get some water and food. We'll take this up again in an hour."

He nodded and walked away, his stride tight and angry.

When his figure had disappeared into the dining area MacCready shook his head at me. "Never let them look down on you."

"Beg pardon?" My brow furrowed.

"When you're arguing with someone, 'specially if you're right, but even if you're wrong, you can't let them look down on you." He faced me, eyes on mine. "Unless you know you're completely outmatched you look 'em in the eye and dare 'em to keep going." Suddenly he was closer, so close I could feel the heat of him pushing into my personal space. "Get close in and intimidate."

I stared at him.

"Feeling intimidated?"

That was _not_ what I was feeling, and the realization flustered me. I stepped back, breaking his gaze.

"Yeah, that's what you _don't_ do." He sighed, rubbing at the side of his face. "Haven't been in many fights, have you."

Fighting, resisting or even disagreeing in the Institute meant getting taken by the SRB and probably recycled. It was difficult to overcome my instinct to back down and try to make myself unnoticeable. I squared my shoulders and took a few quick steps toward MacCready, getting right up in his face. His eyes widened and I could see the tiny gold flecks that spattered across his blue irises.

"Like this?" I snarled, trying to imitate him at his most 'I've just gotten out of bed and haven't eaten yet'.

He stared at me for a startled instant before his eyes flicked down, just for a moment, then back up to meet mine.

"Not bad." He admitted, leaning closer, trying to make me give way. "Think you're tough?" He murmured, so close our noses almost touched.

"Not at all." I squinted, daring him to move.

I thought he was going to keep pushing but abruptly he turned away, laughter shaking his shoulders as he covered his mouth with one hand. "You're so…" He snorted.

"Honest?" I asked, relaxing my stance and folding my arms across my chest.

"Hopeless." He chortled.

I tried to frown at him, but I couldn't keep my mouth from quirking up at the corner.

Finally he gained control of himself and pushed me towards the building gently, his hand lingering at the small of my back.

"I don't know why I snapped at him." I admitted as we walked.

"I do. The guy's annoying." He said, keeping pace with me. "He the best this place can do?"

I sighed, shaking my head. "I'm not sure he's getting it."

"He isn't. We've been in this place twice as long as the others." He stopped me with a hand on my arm. "If you don't think he can do it, just tell them and we'll finish up and move on to people who can."

I bit my lip.

"What is it?"

"There must be a reason they picked him."

"Best of a bad lot?" He suggested, exasperated. His hand tightened on my arm. "Listen, you've got one question you need to answer, and that'll be that."

"What question?"

"Would you trust him to do what needs to be done?"

I stared down, considering the answer. Was my opinion really more important than someone else's?

"Don't think. Go with your gut."

I looked back up to meet MacCready's serious gaze. "No. I don't think he can be trusted."

"There's your answer."

* * *

To say that Nordhagen's leaders were none too pleased with my conclusions would be an understatement. Their protests were long and persistent and I was glad of MacCready's silent support at my back when I refused to change my mind.

They only settled when I assured them I would finish the generator myself and would make sure one of the people I'd already trained at County Crossing would be available if they had any issues arise.

Even so I was aware of Tomas' dark looks at my back when I got back to work, squinting against the sun overhead. At least the sand under my knees cushioned them somewhat. I tried to concentrate on that sensation and the intricate work rather than the tingle along my spine that told me I was being watched by someone with unpleasant thoughts towards me.

My hair again stuck against my sweaty cheeks and I brushed it impatiently away when I felt something land on my head. Automatically I raised my arms to protect my face and spun on my knees to land with a thump against the generator's outer casing.

When nothing else happened I lifted my hands to cautiously feel the brim of a cap.

I pushed the brim back from my eyes to look at MacCready accusingly. The wind ruffled his thick hair back from his forehead. He raised a brow at my glare.

"Thought you might want something to keep the sun out of your eyes."

"You didn't have to throw it at me!"

He smirked. "Was wondering what would happen."

"Well, I'm glad I amused you." I pushed the brim back again when it slid over my eyes once more.

He leaned over and grabbed the brim of the hat, settling it more firmly on my head, his fingers tucking my hair behind my ears as I watched him silently. His expression was oddly soft as he worked, tightening the band of the cap. Finally he leaned back.

"Feel fine?"

I nodded.

He regarded me, his brows drawn down. "Looks good on you."

"Don't you need it?" I asked. I felt oddly shy so I broke his gaze to look down at my hands nervously brushing the grains of sand from my pants legs.

"Nah. I've been carrying another one around for a while. I'll just wear that. You, on the other hand, keep squinting like you were and you'll end up looking like this." I looked up to see him screw up his face in an exaggerated way and rolled my eyes at his grin. "Permanently." He added with satisfaction.

I shook my head at him in mock-exasperation.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" He stepped back. "Get back to work so we can get out of this place sometime this month."

I wrinkled my nose at him before turning back to the exposed wiring.

The hat made my head a little too warm, but I loved it anyway.

* * *

The next morning MacCready modeled his new hat for me in the dim room we had been given for the duration of our stay.

"It suits you." I told him after a sufficiently long pause.

He preened and pushed back the brim of the Minuteman style hat with one finger. "It does." He agreed. "I always wanted one of these."

I picked up the hat he had given me from the rickety table where I had stored it overnight. "Needs something, though."

He raised a questioning brow at me as I plucked the .308 ammo he had had stored from the band. "Duck your head down." I told him as I approached. His skeptical gaze didn't waver and he waited until I was standing in front of him before ducking slightly so I could reach his crown. Carefully I slid the three bullets in the band in the same general area that they had been before.

"Are you done yet?" He complained, his breath pushing across my collarbone from his awkward posture.

Hurriedly I stepped back and folded my arms, watching as he felt the placement of the bullets. "There. Perfect." I told him.

"Adds that certain something, doesn't it?" He smirked at me.

I nodded and turned away, picking up my own new hat and settling it on my head. I took a moment to smooth my hair behind my ears before turning back. "Ready for breakfast?"

"Now that I'm all fancy, yeah." He mocked as he moved through the door into the wakening settlement.

* * *

My head hurt.

It took me a while to realize that it wasn't from the hat that sat snugly on my head. Nor was it from leaning over the inner workings of the generator all morning. I was finally done and was making preparations to leave the next day.

It wasn't from the tension in my shoulders put there by the dark gazes Thomas and a few of the other settlers had continued to send my way.

I rolled my neck slowly as I carefully packed away my haz-mat suit, the routine practiced and unconscious from the seven times I had previously done so.

I glanced over at MacCready, but he was relaxed on his bed, his arms folded behind his head and his hat tilted to cover his face. The soft snores that emerged made me smile faintly.

The pain seemed to pulse, pushing my smile away.

I rubbed at the back of my neck, trying to relieve a pinched nerve or tense muscle, but my fingers found no source.

I had had pains like this from time to time while we were traveling, but before they were brief. This was lingering and seemed to spread from the source at the back of my neck up to my temples, rattling my teeth along the way. Abruptly the pain became so intense that my stomach heaved, and I pushed away from the bed, dashing through the door and out into the night.

Vomiting was unpleasant, particularly when coupled with the pain still pulsing through my entire head. I looked up through watery eyes, hoping no one had been there to witness.

The night was dark and overcast. The only lights around were a few in the scattered buildings and the searchlights that worked through the night in hopes that they would provide enough warning in case of attack. I pushed my hands against the bridge of my nose as another wave of sickness overtook me.

When I looked up again the sweeping lights illuminated something in the darkness. There and gone again. Another sweep and the dark figure was again revealed.

I shot a frantic glance behind me.

Nothing stirred. Even the night sentries seemed to be absent.

The lights swept again and the figure was gone.

Something gripped me by the back of the neck.

I stifled a gasp.

"You did not run." A dispassionate voice murmured in my ear.

I was lifted up on my toes, my back arching.

"There…there was no reason to run." I gasped as quietly as I could.

Wake up… No, don't wake up!

"And yet, you are not where you should be." The voice whispered. "I wonder. Why is that?"

"I…it was required that I travel. The intention was always that I would return." The pain, the tightening grip…my head was starting to swim.

"You will return."

"I must finish my objective." The grip tightened again and I felt myself on the edge of consciousness.

"This is not your objective."

Don't scream. No matter how much it hurts, don't scream.

"In order to complete the Institute's objective I must follow the orders given to me…given to me…by…" I fell to my knees when the grip abruptly loosened. Grains of sand followed my desperate inhales.

"You will return to your designated location as soon as is possible."

"Yes." I agreed.

"You will not leave your designated location again."

"Yes." I remained crumpled on the ground, trying not to sob.

"There will be…consequences."

Synths did not cry. We were not allowed to cry.


	11. Part 11

I, Synth pt. 11

* * *

The air was quiet and still. Humidity pressed in against my skin as we walked. Off to our left the giant airship of the Brotherhood of Steel receded into the mist rising off the sea.

Somehow I had finished packing.

Somehow I had slept.

Somehow I had managed to choke down breakfast, though the pain of the night before left my stomach unsettled and the grip of the courser made it feel like I was swallowing broken glass. But I ate because to do otherwise would have raised suspicion. Despite my efforts once or twice MacCready gave me a searching look, as though he knew _something_ was wrong, even if he couldn't pinpoint what it was.

Making conversation, at the moment, was beyond my abilities. Thankfully MacCready rarely felt the need to fill a void of silence. I watched his back as he walked before me, even though I knew I should be paying attention to my surroundings. I watched the swing of his coat and his confident step as he maneuvered around the piles of rubble in our path.

I wondered what would have happened if he had woken up.

MacCready glanced back at me and I hurriedly turned my gaze elsewhere.

I should have made some excuse when the General presented me with this trip. Certainly I had considered the consequences…but not well enough. I had let the shadows recede when I should have kept them in sight. I should not have let myself think as though I had free will. I did not. I was synth. We were created for a purpose, with intention and with the knowledge that we were the possessions of our creators.

I cleared my throat thoughtlessly and winced. Though the courser had left no bruises I still felt his fingers gripping my neck like an invisible collar.

As soon as he had gone the pain in my head had stopped as abruptly as though someone had flipped a switch. But the memory of the pain still lingered. I dreaded feeling it again.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?"

I looked up to realize that somewhere deep in my thoughts I had turned away from MacCready's path. He stared at me from the crossroad, his brow furrowed.

"We're going north." He said, repeating slowly, "North."

"Sorry." I murmured, turning from my western path and silently retracing my steps to MacCready's side.

His mouth twisted as he watched me. I looked away.

"What's wrong with you?" He finally spat out.

I looked at him, pondering what lie to utter.

"I didn't sleep well." I finally told him, skirting the truth instead.

"You seemed to sleep well enough. Didn't wake me up once."

I shrugged.

He stepped closer. "Did you hurt youself? Or…" His expression turned dark. "Did someone hurt you?"

I raised my hands to forestall him stalking back to Norhagen and demanding redress. "I just don't feel well."

He considered that answer. "Is it your throat?"

"Yes." I responded after a moment. So he had noticed.

His eyes widened, as though in fear. "Don't get sick." He demanded. "Here." He stepped closer, taking the scarf wrapped around my shoulders and snugging it more tightly around my neck. I tried not to wince as his fingers brushed the tender skin at the back of my neck. His fingers grazed the underside of my jaw and I fought not to lean into him.

I lost the fight. I needed something. I needed contact, affirmation that someone, at least, saw me not as a tool but as a person. Just for a little while. Even if I wasn't.

I leaned against him, taking deep, shuddering breaths.

He froze.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, apologizing for so many things.

He didn't reply but he didn't push me away, either.

He still smelled of leather and gunpowder and beneath that was the scent of his skin.

He let me stand there a minute before I felt his hands on my back. For just an instant his arms encircled me, the sensation completely different from Valeria's embraces. Then his hands gripped my arms and he stepped back, creating space between us.

His eyes were dark and unreadable as he stared down at me. One hand released my arm and brushed against my forehead right beneath the brim of my hat. His hand lingered.

"I don't think you have a fever." He said, his voice low and a little shaky.

"Okay." I replied.

He released me and stepped away to rummage in his pack. "You should drink a lot of water." I took the proffered beverage and drank under his watchful eye. Swallowing was still painful but I managed it. "We need to get moving if we're going to make the next settlement before sundown and I don't want you sleeping out in the open."

"Okay." I whispered.

"Make sure you pay attention."

"Okay."

"And stop agreeing with me! It's creeping me out."

The laugh I couldn't hold in felt good and painful at the same time. "How do you expect me to reply to that?"

He laid a finger across my mouth. "Just don't talk."

My eyes widened and he snatched his hand away, turning slightly pink along his cheekbones. "Let's go." He told me gruffly.

I couldn't help it.

"Okay."

His glare made it completely worthwhile.

* * *

A raised fist stopped me in my tracks. Immediately I dropped into a crouch, unclipping my pistol from my belt while sweeping my eyes across our surroundings. MacCready dropped into a similar crouch in front of me, sighting down his rifle. I didn't see anything but I had come to find that even if I had artificially constructed perfect vision, he had more experience as to what to actually look for.

I hated the feeling I got every time this happened. Even if nothing came of MacCready's warnings my mind would race, constructing worst-case scenarios. Had the courser returned, shadowing my steps and making sure I was heading where he wanted me to go? Or maybe it was a deathclaw, though that wasn't quite as frightening.

I hadn't been able to come up with a reason to head straight back to Sanctuary. Perhaps I could use the 'illness' that I had led MacCready to believe I was suffering would be a good excuse, but as I had never been sick before I wasn't sure how to pretend it would necessitate an immediate return. More likely he would bundle me up at the nearest settlement and send for Doc Anderson than drag me across that distance.

I wanted to sigh, but I knew that would be a bad idea, so instead I dragged my attention to MacCready's tense back. He glanced around and gestured without looking that I should move to a nearby stand of brush. I kept low and complied, relaxing a bit when he joined me. That meant he felt that as long as we kept quiet we should be able to avoid whatever trouble was approaching. If he had left…

Then all I could do was sit and wait for the gunfire to die down and hope that none of the bullets fired at him had found their mark.

At my questioning look he pointed, keeping his movements subtle.

Now that I knew where to look I could see very clearly what had sent the two of us to ground. There was a glint of clean white, so out of place in the Commonwealth. Smooth helmets and body armor over skeletal robotic frames. Four, no, five, though the fifth was in smooth black rather than white. They moved down the road, not caring who might see them.

"What are they doing here?" I couldn't help but whisper.

MacCready shot me a look, but he must have deemed them far enough away to be out of earshot. "No one knows. Could be scavenging or hunting down a caravan." His jaw was set, his eyes blazing as he tracked their path, moving away from our location, thankfully. "Or just making the poor bast…the locals scared sh…" He sighed, "Scaring people. Or worse."

"Worse?"

"They shoot on sight." He told me, swiveling slightly to keep the party in view. "No questions. No demands. Just those…robotic voices…" He shuddered.

I bit my lip. Never had I thought the gen 1 and 2 synths that serviced the institute as threatening. They were service mechs, doing many of the jobs that they deemed us generation 3 synths too valuable to attempt. The most they had ever wielded was a screwdriver or a broom.

These, however, exuded a sense of threat. Perhaps it was because they walked boldly down the middle of the road, not caring what they may encounter. Or perhaps it was the rifles in their hands, looking so out of place and all the more menacing for it.

They were not aware, not like we were. They did not have emotion or judgement of their own, just enough programming to follow orders and work independently in a limited way.

I raised myself up a little to see over the brush. From my observations the one in the enveloping black armor was a gen 2, like Nick Valentine, but unlike Nick they were built without an individual personality.

MacCready stood slowly, his eyes on the path that the group of synths had taken. "Let's go." He said shortly.

I nodded, following his lead, though my mind was still on the synths, and on Nick.

He was an enigma. I had never met a synth like him before and I wondered what the Institute had intended by his creation. Were they trying to make the gen 2 self-aware? Or perhaps Nick had been a failed experiment…or a precursor.

And if Nick could become self-aware would it be possible that the other gen 2 could be as well? Were they being held back on purpose? It was more than possible that I would never know the answer. A more pressing question than their potential sentience rose in my mind.

Why would they shoot on sight?

Even as I thought it, however, I knew the answer. I stared at MacCready's back in dismay. They, the Institute, did not value the lives of those in the Commonwealth. I knew they held the people above in contempt, that much had been obvious even when I was employed underground, just from the conversations I hat overhead.

But to the extent that they would eliminate them with no more remorse than one would have upon dispatching a bloatfly?

I stumbled over a branch in my path and MacCready glanced over his shoulder at me.

"You okay?"

I couldn't answer because I didn't know. Something in my heart stirred and pinched when I looked into his concerned eyes. I shook my head.

"Do you need to rest?"

I shook my head again.

Why was I here? What did they want me to do?

And why was it so important to them that I remain at Sanctuary?

MacCready spun on his heel and marched back to where I had stopped in the middle of the scrub grass.

"You don't look okay." He told me, his voice low, his brow knit in obvious concern. The turmoil I was experiencing must have shown clearly on my face. "You're pale…and sweating." His voice shook slightly. His fingertips brushed my cheek. "And cold. Damn it!"

His hand closed around my arm and I stumbled after him as he started pulling me along. My feet caught in the low growth and I stumbled again.

"MacCready, I can't…"

"It'll be fine." He told me, that tremor back in his voice. "Everything will be fine."

* * *

My energy was flagging by the pace MacCready had set by the time we reached the Slog. Wiseman, the leader of the settlement, as he introduced himself, emerged to shake my hand, no doubt alerted to our approach by his sentries. A broad smile spread across his desiccated face. "We've been looking forward to your coming." He told us before whatever else he intended to say was cut short.

"We need a room. Now." MacCready told him curtly.

Wiseman looked confused by his urgency, but he easily switched gears. "Right this way."

The building was comfortably solid and I was expecting him to show us where we would sleep so we could stow our bags but he kept walking directly through. We emerged by a large pool filled with aquatic plants. Tarberry, my stolen memories filled in. A tarberry bog in a swimming pool.

He led us around the rim of the pool to a newer-looking concrete building.

"No one's used this room yet." Wiseman told us, leading us up into a small bar and through to ascend a staircase. "We just got it finished." He continued to explain, "We want guests to feel welcome here so we hope you tell us if we should change anything."

"So we're test subjects." MacCready interjected.

Wiseman smiled wanly over his shoulder. "Something like that."

MacCready barely waited for the ghoul to open the door before brushing past him to give the accommodations a once over. I followed after Wiseman, giving him a small apologetic smile at his questioning look. It was a small and surprisingly comfortable room, with a newer-looking double bed and nightstand. There was even a window in the thick concrete wall.

"Okay. Fine." MacCready said, turning around to face us. "Now, go and get your doctor."

"Ah," Wiseman looked taken aback. "I'm afraid at the moment we only have a doctor who specializes in ghoul…"

"You want people to be welcome and you don't even have a doctor?" MacCready's snarled.

"MacCready…" I whispered, touching his shoulder. He glanced at me, diffusing.

"Whatever." He shrugged off my hand. Wiseman had backed towards the door, looking apprehensive when MacCready faced him again. "Our engineer isn't feeling well, so she needs some rest."

Wiseman looked at me and I cleared my throat. "Sorry, I'll get to work…"

"After you rest," MacCready interrupted, turning narrow blue stare in my direction.

I bit my lip but nodded, admitting defeat.

"I'll have someone bring you up some food." Wiseman made a hasty retreat, firmly closing the door behind him.

MacCready stalked to the window, staring through it as though he found the space in the wall irritating. He seemed to feel my eyes on him and turned, snapping. "You. Bed."

"You didn't need to do that."

"They should have a doctor." He growled.

"I'll be fine." And relieved that there was not a doctor to examine me and discover that nothing was wrong, physically, anyway.

He rolled his eyes at me and turned to the window again.

I glanced up at him as I worried the stubborn knot of my left boot. I must have gotten it wet somewhere along the way because the fibers had swollen. I wondered why everything seemed to be bothering him today. The room, Wiseman, me… His shoulders were set and tense again, his brow drawn down as he continued his study of the window. Then the realization hit that I was making him worry...about me. It was my fault. Guilt shot through me.

I stood and shrugged off my coat, still watching his back. It seemed even more tightly drawn than before. I looked around for a place to stow the garment and finally settled with laying it on top of the small chest by the bed. "Coat hooks would be good. I'll have to mention it."I didn't know what else to do so I tried to make my tone normal and talk of mundane things.

MacCready snorted.

"And maybe a chair in that corner." I continued, watching MacCready out of the corner of my eye.

"Maybe you should stop talking." He grumbled.

I shrugged and pulled back the blankets. "I don't know if I can sleep this early in the day." I admitted, crawling into the bed and pulling the slightly musty-smelling pillow more comfortably under my head.

"Well, I'm not telling you a bedtime story, if that's what you're getting at." MacCready huffed before letting out a long sigh. "Just…rest."

The line of his brow was fierce but his eyes were worried when he at last turned from the window. His steps seemed heavy as he approached the bed and I watched his hand as he reached, oddly gentle, to lay his fingers again on my forehead. His look became distant, though his eyes were still on mine. I wondered what he saw.

"No fever, I think. And you don't look so pale." He murmured, his hand moving to pull the blankets away from my throat. I stilled as his eyes swept my sun-browned skin to the pale line usually covered by my coat. What was he looking for? When he touched his fingers to the side of my neck I couldn't help a little whimper of discomfort. His brows drew down even further, if such was possible.

Impulsively trying to reduce the tension I felt in the air I reached up my finger and smoothed the creased skin between his eyebrows and down to the end of his slightly hooked nose. "You keep making that expression they'll get stuck like that."

He jerked back, eyes startled.

I tried not to let the hurt of his sudden withdrawal show in my face as I let my hand drop back to the blanket.

"Hey, no…I didn't mean…" He stammered so I apparently wasn't terribly successful.

MacCready rubbed a hand over his face before he reached out and pulled the blankets back up to tuck them snugly around my shoulders, his eyes now focused on the here and now, his movement as he tucked me in oddly practiced and automatic. He looked at me for a moment, terribly still. Then with a sigh he plopped down onto the bed next to me, the mattress sagging under his weight.

"It's okay." I whispered as he gently removed the hat from my head.

He shook his head, worrying my hat in his hands before setting it aside.

"Are you okay?" I freed one hand from the beneath blankets to hesitantly lay it between his shoulder blades, so lightly that I wasn't sure that he could feel it through the material of his coat. I let it linger there for only a moment before pulling away. Trying to apologize without letting him know what I was apologizing for.

He turned, his expression unreadable.

His hand reached out to touch my face again, but it was somehow different this time. It was like his fingers were tracing trails of fire across my cheek as he lightly stroked my skin, brushing the loose strands of hair behind my ear.

"I'm not sure." He murmured, his fingers moving against the curve of my ear, tracing its turn. His blue eyes seemed dark, intense, as he looked at me lying beside him.

There was a knock at the door. MacCready sprang up as though he had been stung by a bloodbug.

"What?" He snarled.

A gravelly voice called out from the other side of the door, higher pitched that Wiseman but obviously that of a ghoul. "I've got a tray for the engineer."

MacCready looked down at me as I stared up at him.

"Never turn down free food?" My voice trembled, but I managed a smile.

"Yeah..." He shook his head. "Yeah."


	12. Part12

A/N: Sorry for the large gap between chapters. Many distractions in the last month or two, one: Mass Effect Andromeda and two: some story ideas for Destiny that just would not leave me alone. I got shoulder-charged right out of this story.

But this will be finished.

Thank you for reading.

I Synth, pt 12

* * *

The radio played softly, softly in the background. Strains of instruments, their names mostly forgotten, drifted through the cool, still air.

The breaths that strained my lungs synchronized with the beat of the music. One, in…two three, out. One, in…two three, out. Too fast, frightened, though oddly measured breaths. The skin of my face felt tight, unnatural as I stared without blinking at the blank white wall. The stool beneath me was cold metal, and though I had been sitting there for long, how long I did not know, it had yet to warm to the heat of my too-tight skin.

Behind me a door slid open, silent, but I could feel the rush of air from its passing.

I did not look.

I could not look.

Hands rested on my shoulders, though I could barely feel their weight.

"Such a troublesome child." A whisper in my mind that bypassed my ears.

"Why do you continue to resist?" A question that expected no answer.

"Have you not had enough?" And another.

The hands stroked up the sides of my neck, caressing their way to my jaw-line, fingers searching for something.

"Can you not understand?"

Nails dug and pulled, pulling my skin away, peeling it off like the mask it was. The mask that it had become. I could only stare as it came free, the hands turning the layer of flesh so I was looking at myself being held before me.

"Do you not see?"

I saw the truth reflected in the dead, glassy eyes that stared at me above stretched grimacing lips.

Yellow light and smooth white metal. A lipless mouth set between hinged jaws and plastic strands of muscle.

I saw.

I saw.

* * *

"Annette, Annette, wake up!"

Hands shook my shoulders and I struggled away, striking out, tangling myself in the blankets. The cloth twisted around my flailing arm before a hand caught it and pinned it against the mattress.

"C'mon, calm down." Came that voice again. No, not 'that' voice, MacCready's voice. He sounded plaintive. "Deep breaths."

His gaze caught mine when I finally forced my eyes to open, the vision of the dream replaced by concerned deep blue. A shuddering breath escaped me.

"That's right." He told me encouragingly. "Now another."

I kept my eyes on his as I slowly caught my breath, trying to still my racing heart. I raised my free hand, hesitating, to feel the skin of my face. Logically, I knew there was bone and muscle beneath that outer layer, artificially created though it may be, but the dream had been so vivid that I couldn't be certain.

MacCready's hand followed mine to touch against my forehead before he sat back with a sigh and fingered his jaw, where it seemed a bruise was forming, and turning to the task of untangling my arm from the blankets.

He caught my look and gave an unexpected grin. "You have a heck of a right hook. I'll keep that in mind if I ever try that again."

"I hit you?"

"I've had worse." He shrugged.

I watched him in silence as he finished freeing my arm, his hand stroking the last layer of fabric away.

"I'm sorry."

He shrugged again. "They say never to wake up a sleepwalker."

"I was sleepwalking?"

He gave me a quick, comprehensive look. "No…" He said slowly. "You were, ah, screaming."

I shifted uneasily, pushing myself up to sit against the head of the bed and drew my knees up to my chest to wrap my arms around them. He watched me, sympathy flickering across his face.

I rested my head against my knees, turning my face away from him. "Anything I should know about?" I asked, voice muffled.

"Nothing I could make out." He told me. "Fever dreams, maybe. You felt a little warm when you woke up."

Relief made me loosen my defensive posture and I released one hand to tuck my hair behind my ears.

"How's your throat?" He asked.

"Sore." I whispered, no doubt from the screams I could not recall loosing. I heard a rustle before the blanket I had been entangled in was dropped over my shoulders.

"You need to stay warm." MacCready said when I ventured to look up at him.

I nodded and tucked the blanket around my arms, though I didn't uncurl from my place against the headboard. Perhaps the dream had been triggered by the encounter with that troupe of synths on the road. But it had been so vivid. I brushed my own cheek again. It felt too tight, I fretted, and, as MacCready had expressed, a little warm. Were my eyes still hazel, I wondered? Probably, since MacCready hadn't commented on any change in color, which he surely would have if they had been glowing an electric yellow.

Just a dream.

While these thoughts flitted through my mind MacCready had retreated back to the window, glaring out at the darkening sky. Had I truly slept so long? It had been early afternoon when we arrived and now the sun had nearly set. I doubted whether I would be able to sleep again and wondered if I could convince MacCready to allow me to leave the room. Work would be better at distracting my attention than sitting in the dim room with only my thoughts to keep me occupied.

"Think it's going to rain." MacCready announced, turning from the window. "You stay put and I'll get you something to eat."

"I could come with you."

He shot me a disbelieving look. "You stay right there." He pointed one long calloused finger at me, "and I'll be right back."

He kept an eye on me as he walked to the door, as though he were afraid I would make a break for it. I sighed and snugged the blanket tighter around my shoulders.

"Stay." He said again, and closed the door behind him.

I rolled my eyes and let my head loll back against the wall. I wasn't used to being taken care of, and by MacCready of all people. And as misguided, my fault of course, as it may be, his concern was touching in a way I couldn't quite define.

I uncurled myself from against the headboard, every move painful, as though my muscles were locked so tightly that I had to will them to relax. My knees held when I put weight on them, but it was a close thing, and I had to put my hand out to the furniture to steady myself.

Could I truly be sick? I thought to myself, even though I knew it to be so unlikely as to be nearly impossible. Our hearty immune systems were engineered in such a way that we were almost unable to contract disease, and if we happened to come across something so virulent that I could not be repelled, our bodies would destroy it in short order. For one of us to succumb to a disease would be regarded as a failure on the scientists' part, and that was unacceptable to them.

No. It was something else. Something that made my heart hurt sometimes when I looked at the eager faces learning what I could teach them. The painful longing when I thought of my friends in Sanctuary. The other kind of pain when I thought of the Institute, of my Courser shadows. The strange sensation that made my chest clench when MacCready caught my eye and smiled his rare smile.

The man in question ducked around the door, tray in hand. He looked up and glared.

"Why are you out of bed?"

"I needed to move." I replied, taking a few more steps, knees still a little wobbly. He balanced the tray on one hand and put the other out to steady me.

"That's enough. At least sit." He pulled me in the direction of the bed, pushed me to sit, it didn't take much effort, and balanced the tray on my lap before moving to pull the room's chair close enough so he could reach the tray as well. "Blanket." he demanded.

I reached behind me and pulled the blanket over my shoulders with a sigh I couldn't contain.

We ate in silence for a while, he finishing well ahead of me as usual.

"You shouldn't take this kind of thing lightly." He told me, eyes on his plate. "When…"

"When?" I asked.

He looked up at me, considering for so long that I thought he wouldn't speak again. Finally he began again, speaking slowly. "When my boy…when Duncan got sick, I didn't think much of it at first. Just a cold, I thought." He looked up, one hand moving to the collar of my shirt, gently he pushed it and the blanket out of the way.

I caught my breath, felt my face grow hot.

"Until the purple spots showed up." He murmured, his fingers moving to stroke my skin, perhaps in the place where he'd first seen them on his son. He had a son. A wife? Should I ask?

"He got so bad, so fast. No one could help him. I left him with friends…"

"With friends? Not…not his mother?" I asked, his fingers hadn't ceased their stroking, making the question rather breathless.

He shook his head. "His mother…my Lucy…died, a while back. I heard rumors that there was a cure to be found here, in the Commonwealth, so I followed it…hoping."

"Did you find it?" I asked.

He closed his eyes and smiled, fingers still resting against my collarbone. "Yeah. Me and the General. We found it."

I reached out my hand and touched his bruised cheek. "I'm so glad, MacCready."

Something, a decision maybe, I still wasn't the best at reading human expression, touched his eyes when he looked at me. Such a brilliant blue. "You know. MacCready's…I think I'd like it if you called me RJ, instead."

"RJ?" I asked.

He cleared his throat, "That's my name."

"RJ." I smiled at him hesitantly.

"Annie." He replied, withdrawing his hand. "Finish your food." But he smiled as he said it.

I smiled down at my plate. 'Annie.' I liked it.

* * *

I made sure my 'recovery' wasn't fast enough to be miraculous, but not so long as to become unbearably tedious. In the meantime RJ paid me particular attentions, much more than he had before. It was a little confusing, a little flattering. When one of the ghouls I was teaching after I recovered made advances I spotted him in deep discussion with the man later. After that the ghoul was nothing but respectful, and left as soon as the lessons were over.

Soon enough we were moving on, giving wide berth the Forged territory that was a short distance north of the Slog.

"Don't want to encounter those maniacs." RJ told me acerbically as we trudged through the underbrush. "Don't fancy becoming well-done."

Later that day we encountered a caravan heading the other way, along much the same route. The caravan leader waved us down.

"Hey," She said. "You MacCready and Annette?"

RJ held his rifle at ready, a little standoffish. "Who's asking?"

"Name's Holly. Part of the new caravan system the General's testing."

"New caravan system?" RJ asked, interest piqued, I suppose, from his time as a caravan guard.

"Yeah, we've got enough people now so provisioner routes and minutemen patrols are being combined. They give us extra security, we're able to re-provision them after any skirmishes they may encounter."

"And we keep them out of trouble." A tough, scarred woman chimed in, her eyes never stopping their scan of their surroundings. She jerked her head towards Holly. "'Specially this one. Always in such a hurry to get back to her man she would just run straight through Forged territory."

Holly blushed.

"At the Slog?" I asked.

She bristled. "Yeah, he's a ghoul. So what? Wiseman's the smartest, kindest man I ever met."

I held up my hands. "He is, indeed." I agreed with her hastily.

"So why you askin' after us?" RJ broke in, stepping forward.

"We're all looking for you." Holly told him.

"Did something happen?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Not so far as I know. General just wanted us to check up on you." She closed her eyes in thought. "I'll pass around word that you've finished with the Slog…?"

I nodded in affirmative.

"And are heading to…"

I glanced to RJ. He shrugged to let me know he didn't care if they knew where we were heading. "Outpost Zimonja," I said. "It's intended to be the last stop before heading back."

"Gotcha. I think she had some sort of project going on."

"She always has projects going on." The minuteman added.

Holly shrugged. "Just saying Sturges seemed to have his hands full."

"We need to be moving," The nameless minuteman said, suiting action to words.

Holly didn't protest, no doubt eager to get to the Slog as quickly as possible. She started walking off backwards, giving us a wave before she stumbled and turned herself around.

RJ snorted. "It's a wonder she lasted as long as she did."

I nodded in rueful agreement, wondering what project it might be that was keeping Sturges so busy.

"C'mon." He said, leading us on.

* * *

I stared at the bodies lying on the ground as RJ spoke to the settlement leader.

"No, I don't know what happened."

A weeping man was kneeling over one of the covered bodies. A woman had her hands on his shoulders, offering her support in his grief.

"They just went crazy, started attacking this morning." The woman in charge of Zimonja looked like she was still in considerable shock. "I don't know what their goal was. They killed three of my people before we were able to put them down and it took all of us."

Six bodies in total lay covered on the ground. A few had grim looking people with guns standing over them, almost as though they were afraid that if they didn't watch the corpses they might somehow revive themselves. Given that at least one of the shapes under the concealing cloths suggested that person no longer had a head I found that very unlikely.

And yet they stood.

The headswoman accepted something from one of the other settlers. "We found this on their corpses."

"Synth components." RJ said, something in his tone of voice making me look at him in trepidation. "All three of them?"

"Ian there won't let us touch that one." She replied, gesturing at the weeping man.

Ian looked up, his face red and grief ravaged. "He wasn't a synth. He wasn't! It's all a mistake….he…he…" He trailed off, bending his head again. "Not my Gus."

Sympathy might have touched RJ's hard eyes for a moment. Regardless, he turned from the grieving man.

"I understand that you're going to need some time to clean up." He started, "The engineer and…"

"Let me stop you there." The headswoman held up her hand. She looked at me searchingly. I glanced at RJ, but he looked as confused as I. "I think it'll be best if the two of you just move along."

Now RJ stepped forward angrily. "You can't…"

The settlers with guns raised them slightly, turning their attention to the ex-mercenary. I laid my hand on his arm. "It's okay, RJ." I told him quietly before turning to the woman. "I understand that you don't want strangers right now. Perhaps you could send your prospects with the caravans when they pass through. I'll be happy to teach them in Sanctuary."

Inside I was shaking, afraid. I think I managed to project calm with my voice and expression, a skill learned by teaching. It had happened just this morning before I arrived. I couldn't help but assume that it was a message, or a lesson sent expressly from the Institute.

She was shaking her head first slowly, then angrily. "No, you don't understand." She pointed a shaking finger at the synth corpses on the ground. "They were our prospects. _All three of them_." Now her gaze on me became openly hostile. "So, I strongly suggest you leave. Now."

RJ interposed himself between us, gun now in hand but pointed downward. "Don't like what you're trying to say, lady. Wouldn't stay now if you begged us." He turned his back on the woman. "C'mon, Annie. Let's get out of here."

RJ was silently furious. I could tell by the set of his shoulders, the extra stiffness in his walk.

I was glad of his silence, because I could think of nothing to say. Those people were like me, or perhaps not exactly like me, but close enough. And with just one command, or maybe just one push of a button, they had turned on the people in their own community, or, in the case of Gus, on the people they loved.

Had they even known what they were? What they might be made to do?

Could the same happen to me?

I stopped, looking at RJ's back with wide eyes.

Could the institute make me harm him, or Marie, or Valeria? Would I even have a choice?

RJ must have noticed that my footsteps had stopped because he turned around.

I looked at him, unable to keep the pain and confusion from my face.

His expression softened and for the first time that we had been on the road he stowed his rifle and walked towards me, quickly closing the gap between us.

"Annie." He murmured as his arms folded around me. I breathed in the scent of his coat, allowing myself to bury my face in his shoulder.

"Annie?" He said again, gently, drawing back. My face must have looked a little better, but I still felt as though my eyes were wide and shocked. "Those idiots don't know what they're talking about."

In one impossible moment he kissed me.

It was like nothing I'd ever experience before. It was…indescribable. Despite myself I clung to him, body and mouth.

He drew back, eyes soft and heated on mine, like a captured piece of cloudless summer sky. His hand went to my face, thumb stroking along my jawline. "You're real." He murmured.

I wished he was right. I wished with all my heart that he was right.

I should tell him. I should tell him and let him kill me before I could hurt anyone. Or perhaps he would back away from me, betrayal in his eyes, and leave me here alone to fend for myself.

He kissed me again and, I shouldn't have, but I kissed him back.

After we got back to Sanctuary, I told myself. I would make sure my friends were all right. I would see everyone I loved one last time. I would prepare and I would not just take myself off somewhere to die.

I would live and I should have stopped him right there because in order to do so I would have to disappear. I would never see him again, with his summer day eyes and reluctant smile.

Perhaps it was the coward in me, but the thought of his expression changing to revulsion was more than I could take.

So this was love, or something like it.

Perhaps this feeling was as close as I could ever get, but I would cherish it as long as I could, even if I would never forgive myself.


	13. Part 13

I, Synth pt. 13

* * *

Ridge and hollow, painted with the early morning light that filtered through the rough walls of my Sanctuary room.

I resisted the urge to run my finger over them, knowing from experience that it would not be appreciated. So instead I lay there and watched them shift with his slow even breaths. Clothed, his thin frame was hidden, likely intentionally, swathed with layers to make him look bulkier. An intimidation tactic, perhaps. And though his ribcage was prominent as he lay there, facing me, his sleeping face peaceful and sated, it was overlaid with a layer of deceptively sleek muscle.

In the weeks that had passed since our return eventually I had come to terms with the urge to feed him.

My eyes closed, a slow blink, before I forced them open once again to watch him.

I was tired, so tired, but I wanted to savor every moment I had before I knew I would never see this sight again, his body, half-covered in a sheet, caressed by the diffuse light of the waking day. Would that we could stay like this forever, that I didn't spend every moment…well, not _every_ moment, but most, thinking about the moments that would never happen.

I couldn't resist. I reached out and, ever so lightly, ran my finger over his side. As I had expected, he woke with a start, his shockingly blue eyes snapping. I met his glare with a sheepish smile as his fingers curled over my wrist, stopping the journey of my finger. He rolled over, taking me with him.

A half-hearted squeak left my throat as I ended up atop him. He looked up at me, his glare softening as his other hand reached up to smooth the hair away from my temple. I tilted my head down and he met me halfway.

"Good morning." I murmured against his mouth.

He grunted, and we didn't talk much after that.

Soon, I thought, when the slanting light had shifted appreciably and I watched his back while he dressed.

And I hated myself just a little bit more.

* * *

Holly hadn't been wrong when she told us that Sturges had his hands full. He had literally welcomed me with open arms the moment I walked into Sanctuary, no doubt alerted to our approach by the perimeter guard.

"Good." He had said baldly, clasping my shoulders. I could feel the heat of RJ's glare on the back of my neck. Sturges didn't seem to notice. "Rest up today. I'll catch you up tomorrow." He had released me and walked off, purpose in every step.

The apparatus loomed above me, so out of place on its concrete slab. The technology was uncomfortably familiar, to be honest, like something out of The Institute.

I hitched my tool belt to rest more comfortably on my hips and crouched to fix my eyes on the mess of wires before me.

Even with pulling in engineers from other nearby settlements, like Twilight Drive-in and Red Rocket, we had been putting in long and strenuous hours. The plans weren't exactly intuitive and we spent many a long night poring over them and comparing notes.

Sometimes RJ would be asleep when I got home. Sometimes he would find us where we had holed up, standing against the wall and watching us with a bored expression. Then he'd walk me home through the dim streets; hand on the small of my back.

Valeria thought it was adorable. Marie was resigned.

RJ seemed content to let them think what they would, so I followed his lead.

That didn't mean Valeria let me escape without gossip. I left those sessions with burning cheeks and interesting ideas. This was completely foreign territory to me, despite my implanted memories, which were oddly vague in the lovemaking department. Perhaps the Institute scientists thought that I wouldn't need anything more than the most basic knowledge. I thought it more likely they didn't know much themselves.

I slept, I ate, I worked, and I spent what little time I could with RJ and my friends. Altogether I was not left with much time to do much else. I knew I needed to plan. I knew I needed to gather supplies, but it was so difficult to find time.

Or so I told myself.

No, I wasn't avoiding the inevitable truth; it was just that Sturges needed me. The General needed me, though she had gone off somewhere with Nick Valentine and no one had heard from her in weeks. Not exactly unusual, I had done the same myself recently, after all.

I closed my eyes, letting out a breath before focusing all my attention on the wiring. At least one of the connections wasn't quite right and it needed to be perfect. There would be no trial run with this. Sturges had been very clear on that. It was a one shot, win or lose and the General's life was dependent on the device being in perfect operating order.

My fingers flew, tightening and loosing almost without thought. Around me the other engineers worked, on their knees or perched on rickety scaffolding, none of us speaking much, all of us feeling the pressure of the looming arms above us, waiting. We paused as one of the settlers came by with a dipper of water, but the pause was brief before we were back to work.

Gentle fingers on my back pulled me out of my working reverie. I blinked up, surprised to see that the light had become dim.

RJ stood over me, squinting up at the sky even as his fingers stroked my back unconsciously.

"It's going to storm." He told me.

As if on cue I heard Sturges repeat the phrase and everyone hurried into action, securing panels and making sure all the tools were picked up and stowed. The engineers who had been on the scaffolding reached down for the tarp that had been put aside for just this purpose. RJ and I joined the others in passing it up to them. In short order everything was covered and secured, and just in time as the rain started sluicing down.

Those of us that had stayed behind took shelter under the device, listening to the patter of raindrops on the wide expanse of waxed fabric stretched overhead. Flashes of lightning illuminated us all with an eerie glow, the arms stretching over us contrasting sharply. I had a sudden image of a trap, waiting above us, waiting to close.

My fingers found RJ's and he shot me a questioning look.

I shrugged helplessly but didn't release his hand.

He sighed and used our intertwined fingers to lead me to sit against one of the arms. I leaned against his shoulder, trying to forget my misgivings amidst the low murmurs of our companions as the storm raged above us.

* * *

The dining area was warm and loud, companionable. I soaked it in as I sat between Valeria and RJ. Hamilton had finished serving and sat across from us, making exaggerated cow eyes at Valeria, who was trying valiantly to not choke on her food as she laughed at him. I smiled at them, I smiled at Steve, who caught my eye from the next table and gave me a salute with his Nuka-Cola. Inside I was a mess of complicated feelings.

The device was nearly complete and soon I would be out of excuses. Yes, I could be honest with myself and I knew they were excuses. A mix of love and longing and melancholy weighed on me. I wanted to stay.

I couldn't.

I wanted RJ beside me, just like this, his hand resting on my thigh under the table, his eyes distant, clearly not wanting to linger but willing to put up with it for my sake.

I would lose that. No matter what, I would lose him.

I could feel the expiration date on my time in Sanctuary, with these people who had become my family, fast approaching.

My eyes dropped to my plate and I busied myself with drawing patterns in the smears of gravy. The squiggles became circuit boards and I hurriedly wiped them away.

"You're quiet tonight." Valeria commented, nudging me with her shoulder.

My smile must have appeared strained when I looked at her because her brow furrowed and she reached up to place one calloused hand on my forehead. Out of the corner of my eye I saw RJ snap to attention, his gaze narrowing on the side of my face.

I glanced at him, shook my head slightly.

His gaze narrowed even more, if such were possible.

"It's just a lot of pressure." I sighed. "I'm a little tired."

"All the engineers are tired." Hamilton provided helpfully. "I think I saw Delilah snoozing in her soup." His eyes got comically wide. "At least I hope she was just snoozing. Maybe I should check on her." He made to get up but tripped and fell back into his seat when his foot apparently caught something under the table.

"She went to bed half an hour ago and you know it." Valeria told him loftily, taking her hand from my forehead with one last searching look.

He gave her a wounded stare, the validity of which was offset by the hint of a smile lurking at the corners of his wide mouth. She ignored him, her attention on me.

I couldn't look at her. I didn't want her to read the expression lurking behind my eyes.

"You should go to bed." She finally said. "And _sleep_." This with a pointed look at RJ, who raised his eyebrows but didn't deign to reply. "We don't want you getting sick on us."

"I wouldn't want anyone getting sick on me." Hamilton supplied. "Not again."

We all looked at him.

"What?" He asked innocently. "It's messy and gross."

I heard a soft thump and he winced, the wounded stare returning as he looked at Valeria.

"You deserved that." She told him.

"Well, it is." He grumbled.

RJ took my arm. I sighed and let him pull me to my feet.

"I'll make sure she rests." He said, face impassive.

I made a half-hearted wave as he steered me through the diners and into the dim street.

The rain had settled the dust in the air, and the night smelled fresh and clean. I took a deep breath, letting it settle in my lungs, memorizing the scent of petrichor mixed with the smells of wood smoke and wet metal.

"Maybe you should take a day off." He told me abruptly.

I glanced up at him but his face was shadowed. There was no hiding the tightness of his jaw, though.

I reached up and touched the tight muscles, willing them to relax under my fingers.

I'm so sorry.

"We're so close." I told him. "A few more days and we can all go back to normal."

He walked beside me in silence for a few moments. "Are you sleeping enough?" He finally asked, his voice tinged with an unfamiliar note. I glanced up at him to see a flare of red along his cheekbones. "I can move to the other bed…"

"No." I answered a little too quickly and a little too loudly. I caught a flash of surprise in his eyes. "No." I repeated in a small voice. "I…like having you…I mean…"

"Ah." He replied. "Okay, then."

He looked away. I looked down.

He released my arm to take my hand and we continued into the night.

* * *

"It was like she had come home."

I tried not to look like I was listening as I rummaged through a bin of spare parts. It wasn't as though it were intentional. Curiosity kept me searching, though the part I looked for had already come to my hand. It was not my fault they decided to pause right beside me for their conversation, after all.

"I know that look, kid. It doesn't make much sense. The island isn't exactly the kind of place you'd look to for a prime vacation spot but you didn't see her face." Nick Valentine took a long drag on his cigarette. "First time I ever saw such a peaceful expression on her."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Deacon turn his head to watch the woman deep in discussion with Sturges. She seemed to feel his look and turned slightly to give him a nod. He looked away.

"Not a lot of peace to be had." He told Nick, his expression unreadable behind his dark glasses.

"All the same." Nick shrugged, tossing the butt on the ground and grounding it under his heel. "I helped her build a little place, right on the water. Stayed there while we…did what we needed to do. Can't tell you how many times I went there and found her just…sitting, looking out at the fog."

Deacon shrugged, he had been quieter than usual since my return. I wondered if he was upset about something. "To each their own, I guess. Tell me more about Far Harbor. Seems I might have a vested interest."

"Hell of a place." Nick shook his head. "Not at all what I expected."

The two walked away, taking whatever else might be said with them.

I straightened, turning the piece I had found over in my hands as I walked back to the build site.

The General had returned the night before, bedraggled from another rainfall; this seemed to be the season for it, Nick and Dogmeat in tow. I hadn't been there to see it, but Steve, who had been on gate duty at the time, filled me in at breakfast. Everyone in the settlement seemed to be insatiably curious about what the General had been up to, but in this case she was oddly close-mouthed.

She likely had confided in Deacon, they seemed to have few secrets between them, but otherwise I probably now knew more of her activities than most of the others.

Pulling a rag from my pocket I cleaned off the part, shrugging internally. Probably not my business.

Sturges looked up at me with a sober expression when I returned. He was standing at the console we had salvaged from an old factory, typing busily. I showed him the part. "That'll do it." He told me after a brief scrutiny.

I nodded, watching as he straightened and stretched out his back. He looked to the apparatus towering above us, so alien against the desolate landscape. Once again I was struck with the notion that it was waiting. Could machinery like this have awareness?

"What do you say, Sturges?" The General asked, almost making me jump out of my skin. She was so quiet when she approached that she might as well have been invisible.

"Few finishing tweaks, make sure the programming's right, then she'll be ready when you are." Sturges told her. Apparently he didn't share my misgivings, as he gave the device an almost fond look.

"What are my odds?" The General asked. I looked at her to find her face a complex mixture of emotions I couldn't even begin to sort out. I saw hope, worry, despair, pain…more. The human-born were truly complex.

"Should be good, assumin' that source of yours was to be trusted."

She bit her lip, an unexpected sign of vulnerability. "I believe so." She finally answered. "You're sure we can't test it?"

"I'm sure." He told her, with a quick sidelong glance at me. "The folks on the other side may get a might too curious if we try it more than once. Not to mention the power draw."

She sighed, as though she had been expecting this answer and was resigned to it, even while hoping for a better verdict, then squared her shoulders with an effort. "Tomorrow. Or maybe the next day, no use putting it off too long, but I need some rest before…I go."

She turned and stopped, staring at me with a quizzical look in her gray eyes, half-hidden behind the frames of her glasses.

I had a sudden urge to hide.

"I haven't really seen you since my return. I heard there was some trouble at Zimonja? I haven't had time to look through all my correspondence."

My face must have gone pale because she took my arm in a comforting grip.

"Let's go somewhere to talk." She said, looking at me piercingly. "That is, if you can spare her for a while, Sturges?"

He nodded, holding out his hand. I looked at it for a long moment before I remembered I was still holding the part he had asked for. I handed it over and let the General steer me away.

I tried to walk naturally though my chest seemed oddly tight, my stomach roiled and my face felt hot and cold at the same time. She was gripping me in the exact same place the scientist at the Institute had, what seemed like so long ago. But there was no pain in her grasp. She seemed genuinely concerned as she led me to her house, placing me on the couch and leaving me for a moment to retrieve a glass of water.

"Please, drink." She told me, settling in a stuffed chair with a sigh. I had to assume it was her usual and preferred seat. She leaned forward and tented her fingers in front of her mouth, waiting as I took a few deep breaths in an attempt to settle my stomach. I took a sip from the glass and set it aside.

"So tell me, how are the roads?" She asked.

Not Zimonja? I wondered. "We didn't use them much." I replied, grateful for the reprieve. "RJ doesn't like using the main roads. Too much traffic."

She blinked, her gaze wandering from my eyes and up for a moment before she focused on my face again. "Doesn't he? He never mentioned it to me. I know he doesn't like traveling at night. Did you camp very often?"

I shook my head. "Not too often. We were usually close enough to a settlement… Did you know he doesn't like sleeping in the open, either?"

"I seem to recall he's mentioned it." She leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. "You went to Twilight Drive-in first, is that correct?"

She led me through the entire journey with quiet questions, sharing her own anecdotes from time to time. I relaxed and found myself telling her things I wouldn't even have thought of otherwise, like how I was deathly afraid of giant insects.

I told her things I thought she should know, like the trouble I had with Tomas and the promise of sending people from other settlements to maintain their reactor. I told her which settlements seemed to be struggling and which were working more smoothly.

At some point Deacon came in, looking a question at the two of us. The General looked at me searchingly before gesturing him to sit down. The small lull his arrival cause quickly wore off as the General continued her questions and he added a few amusing anecdotes of his own.

"So he takes a smoke break." She told me with a helpless smile at one point in one of his stories.

"Hey, you had it handled." He told her, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth belying the seriousness of his tone, "and those super mutants were seriously stressing me out."

"Thank goodness we didn't run into any of those." I exclaimed.

"None at all?" The General asked me.

I hesitated. "But we did see a synth patrol." I said quickly, rushing the words out before they could stick in my throat.

"Oh?" She asked carefully.

"On the road between Nordhagen and the Slog." I told her. What had happened that last night at Nordhagen I would not tell her, I would not tell anyone. Even the thought of speaking of the Courser brought back the feeling of his gloved fingers curling around my throat. But I could speak of this.

"There's been more sightings recently." Deacon commented. "Outside their usual patrol routes."

"I see I have a lot to catch up on," The General sighed.

"Absolutely _piles_ of paperwork on your desk." He told her cheerfully. "Make sure you take a straw with you when you go in your office."

"A straw?"

"So you can breathe when it buries you." He told her mock-seriously, flashing a small smile in my direction. "You might want to take a flare gun too, in case you need to signal for help."

"Inside, with all that paper?"

"That or a shovel so you can dig yourself out."

The conversation continued along those lines for a while. I told them about the Slog, and my 'illness', in case someone happened to mention it. Of Holly and her infatuation with Wiseman.

She laughed at that one and told me it explained a lot before asking me how the new arrangement of Minutemen patrols and provisioners seemed to be working out

Then I came to Zimonja.

I paused.

"Take your time." She told me gently.

I shook my head. "I arrived to find some of the settlers had attacked the others."

Deacon glanced at me, and I got the feeling that he already knew what I was about to say. I tucked my hair behind my ears and took a deep breath. "The attackers all died, and when they examined the bodies it was discovered they were synths. I…" I stopped, not sure what to say. Not sure what was _safe_ to say.

The General gestured me to continue. "It's all right. Go on."

"I offered to stay and teach, and when they told us it would be best if we left I told them to send the people I was there to instruct to Sanctuary." Now, this would be difficult. I prepared for the ceiling to crash down on my head. "They refused."

The General had leaned forward again, her hands tented before her mouth, elbows resting on her knees. "Did they say why?"

"They were all dead." I said in a quiet voice.

"The synths killed them?" She asked gently.

I shook my head.

"They were the synths." Deacon replied for me, his voice low and pained.

I nodded.

The General stared at us both before taking her glasses off and laying them on the table next to her chair so she could rub her eyes. She looked younger without them on, younger and so very tired.

"Any thoughts as to _why_?" She asked.

I shook my head again, that tight feeling in my chest returning.

"They don't really need a reason." Deacon told her quietly.

She sighed again, running her fingers through her dark hair. "I can't help but think they don't do anything without one." She murmured half to herself before turning her gray eyes to meet mine. "Thank you for the talk Annette. I enjoyed speaking with you, even if some of the news was…unwelcome."

I opened my mouth. She stopped my apology with a raised hand. "No. I much prefer first-hand accounts to reading piles…"

"Mountains." Deacon provided helpfully.

She ignored him. "Piles of messages." She glanced out the window and I followed her gaze, a little shocked to find that evening was well upon us. "I imagine you're hungry so I'll let you go join the others."

"Yes, General."

She made a little face, but I wasn't sure what it meant. "Deacon, if you'll stay a little longer."

"Yes, General Den, ma'am." He snapped a salute from his seat on the couch.

"Knock it off." She looked back at me, and a mischievous light touched her eyes, erasing some of the fatigue. "By the way, MacCready's hat looks good on you."

Blood rushed to my cheeks and I squeaked a 'thank you' before beating a hasty retreat out the door.

And even though the ceiling hadn't come crashing down, that tight feeling wouldn't leave my chest. I had lied with a simple headshake. I knew why they had died, and their deaths were on my head.

* * *

The residents of Sanctuary had been instructed to remain in their homes, the majority of those who had been brought in to work from other settlements had been banished as well. Not that we expected the thing to explode, but they were too valuable to risk.

Personally I would rather be a good distance away, but Sturges had declared me essential personnel and I had never been able to dispute him. Truly, I was terribly curious as to what the device actually did, but I'd rather observe it from a good distance away rather than right up next to it. It still made me feel very uneasy, particularly since it had been powered up and sat there waiting for the command to come to life.

Two days had passed since my unnerving interview, for that's what I realized it had been, in the General's comfortable home.

She had spent the time mostly in her office, venturing out only occasionally to eat with the rest of the population and talk to a few select people. I saw her and RJ with their heads together more than once, her face concerned; his stubborn.

And it seemed as though I could never see the General without spotting Deacon nearby, his face set in inscrutable lines, just….watching.

Above us the sky darkened, signaling impending twilight.

I saw the General glance upwards before turning back to her conversation with Sturges. She wore her sleek armor, tough and close to her body for stealth and ease of movement. A small pistol was strapped to her leg. No doubt she had other weaponry concealed on her person, but I couldn't see it. She shook her dark head at something Sturges said and fiddled with the device on her arm for a moment.

"Annette," Sturges called over to me. "We're ready to fire it up."

I swallowed and nodded, walking hesitantly over to take my place at the smaller console.

For a moment the General stood alone. Though a tall woman at that moment she seemed so small. She looked around, giving me a nod, though I was obviously not the one she was looking for.

"Deacon?" She called.

I had a good view of the whole area, so I saw when he moved from the shadows near the hedge. He walked up to the edge of the concrete platform and she moved to meet him, pulling something from the throat of her uniform as she went.

"I'm here, Den." He said.

"Take this." She told him.

I caught the barest glint of gold on a long chain.

Deacon made no move.

"Please, take it." She said again, almost begging. "I don't know what's going to happen after this thing goes online. I don't know if I'll be coming back." She reached out and grabbed one of his hands, prying open his fist to place that glint of gold inside.

"They've taken so much. I don't want them to have it. You keep it for me."

He looked up at her, his face disclosing nothing. "You're coming back." He said, making no move to remove his hand from hers.

"Then keep it until I do, okay, D? Just until I come back."

His fingers curled closed, the chain dangling over the edge of his hand. She clasped both hands over his fist.

"Thank you." She said.

He leaned towards her for a split second, as though something pulled him closer, before he tilted away, moving back a few steps.

I looked away, fastening my gaze on the console before me.

"In the center now, General." Sturges called.

I glanced over to see her backing into the center of the apparatus, never taking her eyes off Deacon.

The moment she hit the platform the device roared to life.

I had to keep my eyes on the readouts. Any unanticipated spikes and we'd only have milliseconds to shut it down. My hair whipped around and I had to plant a hand on my head to keep RJ's hat from flying off.

Dimly I could hear Sturges shouting something to the General, instructions maybe, but I couldn't quite make out what he was saying.

The wind grew stronger, and I could see my shadow cast against the console, outlined in an eerie blue light. Something snapped behind me.

I wanted to look, but I couldn't.

Abruptly there was a loud rush of air and the console under my hands sparked, sending tendrils of electricity into my fingers. With a pained yelp I snatched my hands away. The blue light vanished, and when I turned the General had vanished as well.

I turned wide eyes to Sturges, who was regarding the burnt out apparatus with a resigned air.

"Well," He looked at me. "Either she made it or she didn't."

"Where did she go?" I asked.

Sturges glanced over. I followed his gaze to see Deacon still standing there, staring at the spot where the General had been only instants before.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Guess it won't hurt to tell you now." He told me, steering me away. "She teleported into the Institute."

"The Institute?" I gasped. "Teleported?"

"Only way in or out." He said.

Had I been in one of those things? I must have if it was the only way. It was only through great effort that I kept hidden the sudden weakness in my knees.

"But…why?" I asked.

He looked at me and shook his head. "That's not for me to tell." He gave me a little push towards my house. "Your fella's probably fretting his head off and you should probably get your hands looked at by that Doctor friend of yours. Go on. We'll have a hell of a mess to clean up tomorrow."

I turned as if in a daze and walked up the short walk to my house. The door slammed open as I approached and RJ strode out. He grabbed me by my shoulders and took a good long look at my face, as though reassuring himself that it hadn't changed in the hour or so we'd been apart.

I managed to summon up a weak smile. "It worked."

He grunted, looking me over and shaking his head.

"I might have burned my hands a little." I told him, holding out my reddened palms.

He swung into action, propelling me towards the door, bellowing for Marie as he went.

I had just enough time for one last look at the dead monstrosity behind me, and the still figure that stood there, unmoving, before RJ pulled me inside and the door shut behind us.


	14. Part 14

I, Synth pt. 14

* * *

Strain can wear on a person. It can sap away one's energy, or appetite. It can make them unpredictable, laughing one moment, weeping the next. It could make one simply fade into a ghost of the person they once were.

I had seen it happen a few times in the Institute, to Doctors who simply could not perform to either their expectations or to the expectations of others. A few had taken their stresses out on those unable to defend themselves, synths like me. I hadn't been one of those targeted, but others, though they would not have to their tales, wore their experiences in the depths of their dull eyes. Some had simply vanished. I hadn't, at the time, paid it much mind.

Strain can wear on a person.

Some collapse beneath it, letting it wear them away. Some let it flow through them, hoping that in the end it would forge them into something stronger when their weights were lifted.

MacCready watched me push the food around on my plate, his brow knitted in concern. I caught his glance and took a few bites, letting my gaze lift and wander across the crowded dining hall.

The General sat, surrounded by her usual companions, Dogmeat panting by her feet, Codsworth clanking near her shoulder just outside the dining area.

She looked worn. Tired. It was difficult to see the dark circles behind her glasses, but the frames could not completely hide them. Still, her shoulders were straight, her voice strong, and, though lines bracketed her mouth, she could yet smile.

There had been a communal sigh of relief when she had finally returned from her dangerous journey. It had not taken long, however, for those closest to her to notice that something was wrong.

I could not, of course, claim such a close association, but I had learned to be observant and so I caught the cautious nature of their conversations, the looks they exchanged when she could not see them.

People had begun to tread carefully, though if one asked them they could not say why exactly.

I had my own reasons for treading carefully. For as soon as the General had returned; I could not bring myself to think of it before I knew whether she'd survived her perilous journey or not, I'd begun to make serious preparations for my departure.

I couldn't make any more excuses, not when every time I looked into MacCready's summer sky eyes I could feel my resolve faltering more and more. If I waited too much longer I would be hard pressed to leave him. And I knew I had to. I _knew_.

I pushed my still partially full plate at him, avoiding his gaze and stood, my stomach churning.

"Annie?" he asked, even as he picked up his fork. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." I lied, still not looking at him. "I just need to walk."

I turned my head, focusing my gaze on the furrow of his brow. I saw it deepen. "Don't go too far." He told me.

I nodded, moving past the radio. It was playing that classical music station again and it rang painfully in my ears now that it wasn't muted by the crowd between it and me. I reached out and turned the radio off, ignoring the few murmurs of protest as I moved out into the evening.

Carefully making sure no one was watching I made my way casually to a spot I had discovered some weeks before. The gap in the hedges was small, and only if you were standing in a specific spot would anyone be able to see it. And even then it was positioned so that it looked far too narrow for anyone to pass through.

I edged my way through and crouched in the brush just past the gap, heart pounding. I waited for the feet of the guard on the boardwalk above to pass by before scuttling to the next stand of trees, where I paused to check my weapon. I looked up at my destination, past the large, gear shaped door in the ground.

Every time I pushed myself to go farther. The top of the hill I was aiming for was a bit of a risk, but I hoped to get there and back without anyone noticing. I knew there was something up there, but hadn't quite made it there the last time I made this trek.

* * *

A lantern sat cold on the rough wooden table. Water and weather had scarred the surface, and that of the chair sitting beside it. Above a torn piece of cloth snapped in the freshening breeze. All of it had obviously been here a long time.

I felt in my pocket for the matches I kept there, useful for when the weather blew out the electricity and we had to work by uncertain firelight.

Would it flame? I wondered.

The lamp would flare like a beacon in the dark night. It was a terrible idea. And yet I found myself opening the glass and testing the wick. Oil slicked my fingers and I glanced down at the glow of Sanctuary below before moving so that I would block the majority of the light.

I had to cup my hand to protect the match but as soon as I put it to the wick it flared to life, casting its glow on the little cluster of furnishings.

I squinted at the table, then crouched as the lamplight illuminated something drawn on a board propped against it. It looked like a positive mark inside a starburst. Odd, and somewhat familiar. A little like that graffiti by the Sanctuary gates.

It must have had a meaning, but what it was I couldn't fathom. Nothing in my memories, either real or borrowed, shed any light on the subject.

The night was quiet. This far from the settlement it was easy to pretend that I was alone, here on this hilltop. It was a disquieting sensation. Had I ever been truly alone?

A flutter of wings drew my attention up.

On the desiccated branch above me I could see a crow perched, eyeing me with uncanny attention. It cawed, shattering the stillness. I shivered, rubbing my arms through my sleeves.

And so I nearly leaped out of my skin when something cold and wet pressed against my pant leg.

I smothered a yelp, looking down as the crow erupted from its perch in a burst of feathers.

Dogmeat sat at my feet, head tilted quizzically up at me. He whined softly.

I let out a breath and held my hand out to him.

His cold nose nudged my fingers before he rose and trotted a few paces away, looking back at me, the invitation clear in his surprisingly intelligent amber eyes.

"Did someone send you?" I asked.

He gave me what I interpreted as a doggy smile and stretched, yawning.

"You decided to come on your own." I surmised, shaking my head and turning to blow out the lantern.

The warmth of the light disappeared, leaving me blinking in the sudden dark.

Dogmeat trotted back and nudged my leg.

"You understand that I need to go."

He tilted his head at me again.

I took the hint and started walking, carefully picking my way over the debris.

The canine led me unerringly back to the gap in the hedge. He paused, lifting his nose to scent the air before slipping through. I carefully slid through behind him.

After we had moved a safe distance away I stopped. "Dogmeat." I called out softly.

He trotted back to me, sitting as I crouched in front of him. I reached out and touched the wiry hair on top of his hair, gently tousling his ears. "When I go…please don't follow." I whispered. "Please, understand."

The dog chuffed, leaning into my caress.

I had to hope he understood.

"There you are." I looked up to see RJ striding towards me, eye on Dogmeat. "Playing with the mutt, huh."

Dogmeat flattened his ears at the man, giving a little growl before turning and totting off with a dignified looking angle to his tail.

"Touchy." RJ snorted, strolling over to snug his arm around my waist.

I leaned into him, letting out a long breath.

"You didn't finish your dinner again." He said, steering me down the street. "You feeling okay?"

"I said I was fine."

His arm tightened briefly. "Yeah, you did." He turned his head to give me a long, comprehensive look.

"What is it?" I asked, feeling my stomach churn.

"You don't look so good."

I grimaced.

"Hey, I'm just telling it like it is." He said defensively.

"Maybe I just don't feel too well." I tried to shrug nonchalantly. "I didn't want to worry you."

"I worry." He said simply, a lift to the end of the statement turning it into a mild question. He stopped me with a hand on my arm. I watched him in confusion as he seemed to struggle with himself, the furrows on his brow deepening. "Are you pregnant?" He finally bit out.

I felt the blood drain from my face.

"Whoa." He took hold of my arms, so I must have looked like I was about to faint.

"I'm not." I whispered.

And I never would be.

His expression warred between relief, disappointment and concern.

Never would I be able to give him, or anyone else, a child. Synths were not intended to reproduce. Why would we ever want to? We were built, not born.

I fought against the moisture welling in my eyes. The warmth tracking down my cheeks signaled my failure.

RJ's expression turned pained. He reached out and tucked my head against his shoulder.

I turned my face so I could inhale his particular scent of leather, gunpowder and clean sweat, savoring it even as I took shuddering breaths.

"Maybe I should take you home." He murmured against my hair.

"Okay."

* * *

Valeria leaned against the bathroom doorframe.

I didn't look at her, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Hey, are you pregnant?" She asked.

I coughed, holding one hand over my eye against the pain in my head. It would subside in time. It always did.

"No." I told her, the pain of the question rivaling that of my head. "Why is everyone asking me?"

"This isn't the first time I've found you in here." She said.

I looked at her quizzically.

"You know; morning sickness?" She shrugged, giving me a smile tinged with concern. "What with the way you and MacCready have been going at it…"

Marie shoved her out of the way and bustled her way into the room. "How long has this been going on?" She asked.

"You would know if you weren't suspiciously gone every morning." Valeria raised her eyebrows. "Something _you_ want to tell us about?"

Marie's shoulders stiffened but she ignored the taller woman as she grasped my chin, looking into my eyes.

"Pupils are dilated." She said, mostly to herself. "Skin is clammy and pale." She grabbed my wrist, finding my pulse point. "Too strong."

"I just have a headache." I protested.

"For how many days in a row now?" Marie demanded.

I thought back. It had started a few days after the General, eyes shadowed, had left once again for parts unknown.

"A week?" I ventured. "It usually goes away after a while." Too late for me to make my move and slip away. Everything was prepared, I had my route planned. The only problem was these headaches. I could hardly make my escape when light made my eyes swim and movement made my stomach roil for several hours every day. What made things worse was how familiar this pain was.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Marie demanded.

I tried to shrug, but my stomach chose that moment to rebel again.

Marie watched me with sharp eyes. She turned to Valeria. "Get a cloth and soak it in cold water."

"You don't get to give me orders." Valeria protested mildly before complying.

"A bucket, too." Marie called, the volume of her voice making me wince, but her hands were surprisingly gently as she helped me to my feet and guided me back to my room.

She snorted at the rumpled blankets before tossing them aside and guiding me to lie down.

"Where's that man?"

"He had an early shift." I murmured, eyes closed against the light streaming through the gaps in the wall.

"You've been keeping this from him as well?" She asked.

I nodded painfully. "He worries."

She snorted again.

I heard Valeria enter the room, and sighed as a wet cloth was laid across my eyes and forehead, rivulets dripping down towards my ears.

"Stay in bed." Marie told me. "I'll make your excuses to Sturges."

"I can work."

I could _feel_ the look she gave me. "No. You can't." I felt her cool hands as she touched my cheeks. "I'll check on you in a few hours. Come on, Valeria. Let's leave her to recover."

"Feel better, Annette." Valeria called quietly before I heard both their sets of footsteps retreat.

I wanted to protest.

I didn't want to be left alone with the quiet and only my thoughts for company.

Dimly I thought I could hear the rustle of wings.

* * *

 _N7-48._

I squirmed.

 _N7-48, have you truly forgotten?_

" _Father?"_ I whispered.

 _My dear, dear child. Remember. Remember your true purpose._

Fingers touching my temples, tightening, digging in. I gasped at the pain of it, eyes flying open.

 _Remember._

She looked at me. No recognition in her eyes. They did not move from mine as she reached up and removed the cap from her head, running her fingers through her hair, straightening it. The coat was removed next, falling to the ground, revealing the pure white jumpsuit beneath it. She unwound the scarf from around her neck, bent to remove her boots, her eyes never moving from mine.

I recognized her, and yet I didn't.

She was me, and yet she wasn't.

No, she _was._ I reached out and touched the reflection in the mirror. Cold seeped into my fingers

 _Remember who you are, my child._

 _N7-48, remember._

* * *

I heard him coming, rising from my half-doze at the sound of forceful footsteps on concrete and cracked linoleum.

The curtain rattled as he pushed it aside.

"Annie." He demanded.

"Lot so loud," I whispered.

He let out a deep breath. I thought I could hear a curse on it, but I couldn't be certain as the side of the bed sagged under his weight.

I reached out and he gripped my seeking hand.

I held tight and thought the words I could never say.

 _I love you. I'm sorry._

* * *

"What's all this?" I asked. The base of my skull still throbbed periodically but it wasn't debilitating. It seemed as though the headaches were slacking off, and I wasn't sure whether I should be more relieved or concerned.

But at least the sun wasn't painful as I looked around, wide-eyed, at the lines of lights that seemed strung from every wall and beam. My fellow settlers walked the streets, most of them with cheerful expressions. A few even whistled as they meandered along, arms full. I saw Preston up a ladder, hammer in hand, putting up yet another string of lights. Codsworth hovered below him, more lights strung around his chassis.

"The General has decided, in all her wisdom, that we will celebrate Christmas." I heard a snide voice comment behind me.

I turned to see Marcy standing behind me, her arms folded over her thin chest. Her sneer deepened when she saw me looking. "As if there's anything to celebrate."

"Don't listen to her." Someone else drawled easily. This voice was unfamiliar. "There's always some reason to celebrate, if you look hard enough."

I turned again, searching for the source of the voice, as Marcy huffed and stomped off, muttering something about chem-heads.

I finally found the source of the rough, gravelly voice leaning against the wall of the recently erected market area. The ghoul gave me a once over and an approving smile lit his desiccated face and dark eyes as he lit a cigarette and took a long draw before pushing himself away from the wall and approaching me.

There was a certain roll to his step as he approached, confidence in the set of his red-coat clad shoulders and the tilt of his tri-corn hat. "I don't believe we've been introduced."

"No," I stammered, feeling heat rising in my cheeks. "I think I would have remembered." I told him honestly.

He hummed thoughtfully, the smile growing as he leaned towards me. "They call me Hancock." He murmured, his voice low and intimate. "And you are?"

"Annette." I squeaked.

"Annette." He purred. "What a pretty name for a pretty woman."

"It is, isn't it?" An arm wrapped around my waist and I found myself pulled possessively against RJ's familiar body.

"MacCready." Hancock acknowledged, taking another drag on his cigarette as he took in the tableau.

"Hancock." RJ replied.

Hancock sighed and shook his head as he stepped back. "Pity. But can't blame me for trying." He said, giving me one last long look before smirking, tipping his hat and strolling past us.

RJ growled low in his throat before spinning me around and brushing my hair away from my forehead. "Feeling better?" He asked.

I nodded.

Reassured, he scowled over my shoulder at Hancock's retreating back.

"So, a Christmas celebration?" I asked, hastily trying to distract him.

He shrugged, obviously not caring one way or another. "The General seems to think it's important."

And anything we could do to try and banish the shadows in her eyes we would do. It was a measure of the love and respect she had garnered among those who knew her that such was the case.

"Watch out for Hancock." He told me abruptly, telling me I had not successfully distracted his attention.

"Is he dangerous?" I asked.

He looked down at me and frowned. "Oh, yes."

"Oh."

"Very dangerous." He continued. "In fact, you shouldn't talk to him at all. And make sure you're never alone with him."

"He seemed nice." I murmured, turning my head to watch as the ghoul turned a corner and disappeared.

RJ snorted before steering me away. "Exactly."

* * *

Somehow Valeria had gotten my hair to curl. It lay over my shoulders, the ends just brushing the tops of my shoulder blades. I brushed it behind my ear before she made a chiding sound and straightened it out again.

"You look lovely." She told me. "So don't mess up all my hard work."

I shuffled my yellow shoes, smoothing the skirt of my pink dress instead as I watched her get ready.

I hadn't thought Valeria even owned a dress, but once again she managed to surprise me. I smiled to myself, imagining Hamilton's reaction when he saw the red sequined sheathe she was wearing. She had found something to stain her lips a similar red, her hair smoothly curled off her forehead.

She was beautiful.

"You're beautiful." I told her, unable to keep it to myself.

She stopped dead, then turned to smile at me, eyes warm. "Thank you." She told me, carefully brushing her lips over my cheek. She looked at me closely, as though making sure her lip color hadn't transferred, before turning back to the cracked mirror.

"Figured I might as well wear it." She said conversationally. "Since I won't be able to fit into it much longer."

"What do you mean?" I asked, watching myself over her shoulder.

She smiled, looking up to meet my eyes in the reflection.

I blinked.

"Yes." She said, her free hand moving to her abdomen. She turned and took my hands, her eyes searching my face. "Ham and I are having a baby."

"Oh." I whispered, mind roiling.

"Are you okay?"

I shook myself and shaped my face to form a smile. "Yes. Yes, of course!" I hugged her. "I'm so happy for you both."

She hugged me back. "I was a little worried about telling you."

"Why is that?" I asked.

She pulled back to look at my face. "When I mentioned it before you looked so sad. I thought maybe…"

I bit my lip and looked away.

"Yes, that's what I thought." She said gently before swiping her thumb beneath my eyes. "I don't have any words that might be a comfort, but there are a lot of children out there that need a mother. Something to think about..."

I looked up.

"…Later. Come on, tonight is a celebration." She twirled me out the door. "And tomorrow is another day."

* * *

The strings of lights lent everything around the area a magical air. The tables of the dining area had been moved to the edges of a large empty space. Off to one side a group of the settlers had assembled, instruments of various sorts clasped in their hands. Terrible noises emanated from the group, and I had to hope that it wasn't what they considered music. Valeria stood beside me, her eyes raking the colorfully lit crowd.

I caught the moment she saw Hamilton, and he saw her. They both lit up and he walked over, looking a little dazed, to take her hand and look into her face.

How lovely it would be, I thought, to be able to love someone like that, with no lies or hesitations between them.

Strains of music began to sound, and the band stuck up a song that I found familiar from hearing it on Diamond City radio.

Hamilton gave Valeria a little bow and led her onto the floor, where her dress caught the light and sparkled.

That seemed to be a signal to other couples to begin filling the floor. I wandered along the outskirts, wondering where RJ was when someone touched my elbow. I turned to see him standing behind me, his own face a little dazed.

"Almost didn't recognize you." He muttered.

I looked at him.

"You look…you look…" He cleared his throat, looking out over the dancing couples. "Real pretty." He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, color flushed along his cheekbones.

"Thank you." I whispered, reaching out to straighten the collar of the shirt he wore. It was blue, very nearly the shade of his eyes but not nearly their equal. "You look very handsome."

"Clean up well, don't I?" He preened.

I smiled at him, laughing a little.

"Have you eaten yet?" He asked.

I shook my head.

"Then let's see what they've got." He said, putting his arm around my shoulders and walking me over to the tables where they had laid out an impressive spread of food.

The musicians eventually had to take a break. RJ and I had spent most of the time standing near the table, nibbling at the snacks and watching the dancers. Some I recognized, some I didn't. I figured the General had invited them in from other settlements.

"No Fancy Lads left?" I heard Deacon complain.

"Should have been faster." I heard the General reply.

"You have no compassion for my lack of Fancy Lads." He replied.

I glanced over to see him, in a tuxedo of all things, still with his dark glasses as he pouted over the nearly empty table. The General stood beside him, in a blue sequined off-the-shoulder gown. Even here, in the midst of all the celebration an air of melancholy hung around her. Oddly enough it made her even more beautiful as she looked at Deacon, warmth warring with the shadow of pain in her grey eyes.

Someone turned on the radio.

Soft strains of music filled the air over the murmuring crowd.

 _One more tomorrow_

 _To hold you in my embrace_

The General's head came up, her gaze growing distant.

Deacon looked at her and something passed over his face. He bowed and held out his hand. "May I have this dance?" He asked, a smile playing around the edges of his mouth.

She looked at his bowed head and took his offered hand, allowing him to lead her out onto the empty dance floor.

Everyone quieted, watching them as they swayed.

 _One more tomorrow_

 _To see heaven in your eyes_

I heard RJ make a sound beside me, as though someone had shoved him. I turned just in time to see him glaring at Valeria, who was giving him a significant look. She made a shooing gesture.

He grumbled, straightening his shirt before taking my hand and leading me out onto the floor.

"Even I can dance to this one." He muttered as he pulled me close.

I looked over his shoulder to mouth a 'thank you' at Valeria, who shook her clasped hands in triumph.

We swayed around the floor. I told myself to not think, just for this moment, to just enjoy the feel of him holding me in his arms. Just for a little while longer.

As we turned I caught a look at the General's face, more than likely obscured from the rest of the people by the dim lights.

Her face was a mixture of love, and longing and pain. Even as she leaned against Deacon's shoulder I could see the sheen of tears light her eyes. My own eyes watered in sympathetic pain. Our gazes met, and I wondered if she read the same expressions on mine.

A small sad smile, and we both looked away as the music played on.

 _One more tomorrow_

 _Filled with love the whole day through_

 _And then tomorrow I'd beg_

 _For one more tomorrow with you_

* * *

 _Accessing Unit N7-48_

 _Accessing…_

 _Accessing…_

 _Access granted_

 _Initialize subroutine_ ELEVENTH HOUR

NO.

 _Initialization rejected…_

 _Overriding program_ ACCLIMATIZE

 _Override accepted_

 _Initializing subroutine…_

* * *

Strains of music blaring in my ears.

I got up.

RJ slept on, undisturbed.

Worn out.

I reached to touch him.

No.

I reached out to pick up my rose dress.

No.

I picked up my leather coat.

I dressed.

I looked at RJ's sleeping face.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

I turned.

Where was I going?

Pain.

Strains of music, blaring in my ears.

I picked up my gun.

No.

The pipe pistol.

No.

I walked out.

Quiet.

Quiet.

I paused to put on my boots.

No one around.

All too tired.

Strings of lights painting colors against the night sky.

Don't look.

No.

Pain.

Strains of music, blaring in my mind.

Turn it off.

Make it stop.

No.

Pain.

Rustle of feathers above me.

Walk down the street.

So quiet.

No.

Strains of music…

Crow cawing…

Pain.

Gun heavy in my hand.

Put it down.

Turn around.

No.

Heavy.

Keep walking

Warm yellow house.

Lights on, shining against the darkness.

Warm yellow light.

No.

Pain.

I opened the door.

No one there.

I turned.

No!

Short hallway.

There.

A closed door.

Soft sounds inside.

Warm yellow light.

No!

Pain!

I opened the door.

Music in my…!

Feathers outside the window

She looks up, a puzzled smile.

She says my name.

She asks a question.

NO.

NO.

Pain.

Music.

I raise the gun.

She starts to rise.

Fear flashes in her eyes.

I can't…

I can't…

NO.

PAIN.

Music plays…

 _One More Tomorrow_

NO!

I raise the gun.

NO!

NO!

I raise my eyes.

There it is.

The lantern.

The lantern.

Look for the lantern.

PAIN.

I FOUND IT.

PAIN!

NO!

"Help me."

I fire.


	15. Part 15

I, Synth pt.15

* * *

Loud.

Everything so loud.

Something rammed into me from the side and I fell, cracking my head against something hard as the gun flew from my hand. A heavy weight landed on me, pinning me to the ground.

Something in my head screamed at me.

 _Strains of music…_

My arms flailed, trying to escape the bonds trying to restrain them. Short nails raked over my wrists, seeking a secure grip.

Thudding footsteps raced towards me, and I strained.

"Den!"

"Deacon, help me!" I heard the General cry. "I can't hold her for long. No! No, the pax! Get the…"

I tried to rise, and felt something slam me in the jaw. My head snapped to the side and I reeled, dazed.

"Sorry." The General gasped. "D, the syringer!"

The footsteps retreated momentarily before approaching again. I felt something grab my head and hold it still. My hands reached, I couldn't control them.

The pinch in the side of my neck was so minor that I barely felt it.

In the space of a moment the screaming stopped, as though someone had thrown a warm blanket over my mind.

I drew in a deep breath, feeling every muscle in my body, which had been so tensed that it verged on pain, abruptly relax.

I opened my eyes.

The General hovered over me, panting, her glasses gone and her hair a dark tangle around her head but for the strands sticking to a raw-looking welt that slashed across her cheek.

"D." She whispered, pain raw on her face and in her voice. I felt hands on my shoulders, heaving me up. The hands were urgent but not painful. In fact they handled me carefully, almost gently, as I felt cold metal touch my wrists, binding them together at the small of my back.

The General braced herself with one hand on the corner of her desk, breathing deeply as this was going on.

I found myself numbly propped against the wall amidst the chaos of the General's office.

This was my fault. All my fault. The thought felt distant, hazy.

"Den?" Deacon passed into my field of vision. I saw the light of the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling glint off his dark glasses. I blinked at them. Did he really wear them to bed? I shook my head, trying to clear the odd thought. It was surprisingly difficult.

"I'm okay."

I don't know who was more shocked when he pulled her away from the desk and into his arms. A long, shuddering breath escaped him as he buried one hand in her tangled hair. Another deep breath, this one more steady, and he released her.

His hands cradled her jaw as he examined the welt on her cheek.

"She nearly missed." He murmured.

The General stared up at him, her large gray eyes a little dazed. "No, she nearly didn't." A tremulous smile appeared. "I thought you weren't the hugging type?"

"Extenuating circumstances." He replied lightly, the hint of a smile touching the corner of his mouth.

"Big words." She said as he removed his hands to lace his fingers at the back of his neck.

He shrugged nonchalantly.

Both of their heads whipped towards the front of the house. I heard someone push through the door. Had I closed it behind me? I couldn't remember. It was so hard to remember.

Deacon hesitated for a moment, head turning from the General to me. "I'll take care of it." He said warningly before he trotted out of the office.

"Preston, what brings you…?" I heard him say distantly. There was a muffled response. "Gunshot? No, I…oh, well I'm a heavy sleeper. Probably someone taking potshots at a molerat." He paused, apparently for a response. "Well, I didn't ask what was in that punch but I did see Hancock lingering…"

He returned a few minutes later, a grim smile on his face as he and the General exchanged nods.

I watched the General straighten, and her eyes went to where I sat boneless against the wall. Deacon followed her gaze, and all traces of his smile left his mouth.

I looked back at them. It was too difficult to think coherently, to worry. The blanket over my thoughts was heavy, but I didn't know how long it would last.

"Why did you miss?" The General asked. I noticed that Deacon had carefully placed himself between the two of us, prepared to act should the effects of the drug wear off.

It was difficult to form thoughts, to form words. I let my eyes rove over the room until it came to the reason, the reason I found to fight whatever they had put in my head.

They followed my gaze.

The painted sign was rough, just a representation of a lantern. I couldn't say why I had been so sure that this was what I was looking for. I couldn't say, but it was like a memory I couldn't remember having. The sight of that simple sign was what had enabled me to jerk my hand to the side at the last second so the bullet merely grazed the General's cheek rather than burying itself between her eyes.

Just the thought of it made tears well in my eyes. I wanted to brush them away, but the cuffs on my wrists and the continued lethargy made that impossible.

The General's dark brows knit. She looked at Deacon, and he shrugged.

He said. "She did remind me of someone I knew once, but…"

"New face and memories?" The General's question was laced with disapproval.

The set of Deacon's mouth turned pained. "No. She died. Or…" He gave me another long look before finishing slowly. " _We_ never took her memories."

The General drew in a sharp breath. "You don't need to hint. I know who is responsible." I thought I saw her lip tremble for a second before she deliberately squared her shoulders. "But I don't understand the timing."

Deacon's eyebrows rose. "Don't you?"

She made a cutting gesture with her hand. "Not the timing of this. I understand this." She shook her head, raking a hand through her hair and wincing when she hit a snarl. "All we can do right now is speculate. More immediate, what are we going to do with her?"

"What do you mean, 'do with her'?"

"Don't give me that look, D." She snapped. "She can't stay here and I'm not sure Preston bought your excuses."

"Are you doubting my ability to spin a believable lie?" Deacon asked, obviously wounded.

"I don't know what will happen when the pax wears off." She ignored him, walked over and hovered above me. "And I don't know what will happen if we keep dosing her."

Deacon leaned against the edge of the desk. "I can make arrangements, but it will take time."

She nodded, rubbing her hand over her face as she thought. "The storm cellar." She said suddenly.

Deacon nodded. "Not many people know about it, we should be able to keep her there for a while."

"Can you carry her?"

"When I wasn't juggling, I had a sideshow as a strong man." He replied, sliding his hands under my limp body.

The General snorted.

I looked at her as he lifted me, my eyes pleading.

She sighed and laid her hand on my hair, which I could only guess was just as knotted as hers. "I've never turned away a request for help." She murmured as we made our way out the back entrance of the house. "I won't turn down yours, Annette."

We moved through the dark night towards the last house on the street. I lay still in Deacon's surprisingly sure grip, though the blanket over my thoughts seemed to be thinning.

We passed behind the house in which I had made a home and I couldn't contain the sob that escaped.

No, don't think…

"Shh…" The General admonished.

Deacon glanced at her, then at the house, then to the sky. From my unique position I could see that his eyes were clenched shut. "Den, I just thought of a complication." He murmured as the General pushed aside some branches to reveal the well-hidden doors of a storm shelter. I certainly hadn't known it was there.

She looked up at him.

"Mac."

She blinked. "Oh. Oh, well, shit."

* * *

They did their best to make me comfortable, but there was no disguising the fact that the room they placed me in was simply a concrete hole in the ground.

I sat curled in the corner on the musty smelling bed, trying not to think about the cuff that bound me to the metal frame by one wrist.

Just a precaution, Deacon had told me as he snapped the cuff closed.

I had nodded, agreeing with the precaution. The General had gone already. As the pax had begun to wear off I could feel the directives pressing on me, harder and harder. Being underground seemed to help muffling the urges, but not by much.

I couldn't trust myself not to try to harm her, so I could hardly blame them for not trusting me either.

I pressed a hand against my forehead, trying to still the roiling of my thoughts. Having few distractions didn't help, and I _needed_ distractions.

Once the General and Deacon had left the tears that had been threatening had finally given good on their promise and I had cried out my broken heart and shattered new life until my eyes were swollen and my whole body felt sore from sobbing. I was so tired.

And I could only blame myself.

If I had just left maybe all of this could have been avoided. Certainly I had planned to leave, but if I had truly been serious about it I would have gone. All my excuses had seemed valid at the time, but they had been just that, excuses. The device, waiting to see if the General would return, a hundred other little things.

RJ.

Just thinking of him made the hurt triple. I had been so unfair to him. I should never have allowed myself to become attached, to reciprocate his advances, to use him as an excuse not to leave. I should never have allowed myself to love him. Could I truly even call it love, as it had been built on so many lies? Could I truly call it love, when I couldn't even be certain they were _my_ feelings?

But it felt like love.

My thoughts circled. And circled, and circled.

Hours passed. Or what felt like hours.

I wondered what was going on above my head.

I couldn't imagine that any of it was good, and the guilt swamped me once again.

I had been cowardly, let the excuses keep me in place and now Deacon and the General were left with the mess I had made.

My thoughts circled.

* * *

"Annette."

I jolted out of the exhausted half-daze I had fallen into at the sound of my assumed name. The chain fastened around my wrist clanked as I struggled into a sitting position, blinking tear-swollen eyes against the dimness.

A single lamp glowed in the corner, the wick turned down so it cast only the barest glow. The flame reflected on the General's glasses where she sat in the corner farthest away from me, out of reach should I choose to lunge at her.

 _Strains of music…_

I fought the impulse to do so. It was easier now, perhaps because of my exhaustion.

I pulled myself into the corner, wrapping my arms around my raised knees to hide the trembling of my hands.

The General watched me closely, and I saw that she had a syringer close at hand, doubtlessly loaded with the same substance that had thrown a blanket over my thoughts the night before. Or was it the night before?

How long had I been here? I wondered.

"I have a great many questions for you." The General said, just as the silence began to become uncomfortable, "But first I must apologize."

I blinked at her. Apologize?

She must have read the question on my face even in the dim light for she sighed. "I should have reached out to you when I first realized what you were."

"You…knew?"

"Since the time I found you half-asleep working on the turrets. Though I did suspect…" She shook her head. "But I assumed you had your reasons. Trying to make a new life, perhaps. Not all synths the Railroad helps choose to have their identities erased."

"The Railroad?" I whispered. "Erased?"

She sighed again. "You must forgive my ignorance." She told me. "I haven't been around long but that's not much of an excuse." She leaned forward. "But neither is the fact that you didn't reach out to _me._ I tried to show that you could trust me, but I see now that there was always something…"

 _Strains of music…_

Fight it.

"I did trust you." I whispered. "I do."

A pained look crossed her face, a memory chasing across her expression turning the shape of her mouth tight and grim. "Then why?"

"I didn't know."

"Pardon me?"

"I didn't know why they sent me here." I told her, almost on a cry. "It was somewhere in here." I pushed my hand over my face. "But I didn't know."

"Tell me."

And I did. I told her everything.

"I meant to leave. I meant to leave so many times." I finished, my voice raw and painful. "I trusted _you."_ I told her, "The one I didn't trust was _myself._ Every thought I had, every move I made. Was it me or was it them? I don't know who I am."

"And it's hard to trust a stranger." The General had sat, her full attention on me through the entire recitation. Now she sat back and removed her glasses so she could rub at the bridge of her nose.

She set her glasses on the table beside the syringer, turning her slightly unfocused gray gaze on me. "You shared your story, now let me share part of mine."

She told me of being alive before the Great War, of her husband and child. Of being frozen out of time. Of her first time awakening to see everything she had known being torn away from her. Of waking again, alone in a world she no longer recognized. Of her determination to find her son again.

"I had to create myself again." She told me. "I had to make choices I never thought I'd have to make to find him." She let out a long breath. "Only to find out that he was leading me to him all along. Breadcrumbs strewn across my path leading me to where he wanted me to go." Here she stopped and gave me a long look. "I found out he always had a plan." She said slowly. "And contingency plans."

"You found him?" I asked.

Her mouth twisted. "And now, I think I know why he sent you."

The question must have been clear on my face.

"A contingency plan." She looked sad. "In case I wasn't what he wanted me to be, you were put in place long before I found him. Just in case."

"I had to make a decision." She continued. "I had to choose between what he wanted and what I felt was right." She closed her eyes. "I didn't choose him. But he had accounted for that eventuality. He already had a plan put into place in case I turned against him." She looked at me again. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because if I hadn't chosen against him we wouldn't be sitting in this room right now." She told me. "I don't regret my decision… Well, I do, but not for the reasons one might think. But I do regret what it meant for you. What my son did to you."

"Who is he?" I asked.

"Oh, you haven't figured it out?" She looked a little surprised. "My son is your Father. Hello, granddaughter."

"Grand…"

"In a roundabout way." She agreed. "All synths are my grandchildren." She leaned forward. "And I want to protect you from your father."

I nodded, feeling tears try to well up again, but I had few left to shed.

"So I'm going to send you away. Somewhere I think you'll be safe, if a little bored."

"But I…"

"It's still not safe for you…or me, if you remain here." She continued. "I'm hoping distance will help."

She stood, taking her glasses off the table and replacing them on her nose. For a few long moments she stood there, eyes unfocused behind the lenses.

"Annette?"

"Yes?"

"If you didn't know about the Railroad, how did you know about the lantern?"

"Z1-14 told me…" It felt like so long ago.

She whipped around, her gaze pinning me in place. She strode up to me in two quick steps and gripped my arms before I could react. I was so shocked the strains that were fighting in my mind quelled temporarily.

"Annette, this is very important. When I decided against the Institute it derailed a lot of the plans we had put in motion. Z1-14 was a big part of them. I don't know if I can make him trust me again and I _need_ him to trust me. It's important for all the synths. Is there anything you can tell me that might help me help them?" Her gaze was intense, pleading, desperate.

I bit my lip, trying to think.

"Tell him…tell him N7-48 found the lantern."

"N7-48…" She released me and stepped back.

I nodded.

"You look more like an Annette to me." She told me seriously.

"Thank you."

* * *

"I had to tell him." The General looked at me where I picked at the food she had brought me. Deacon stood near the ladder, arms folded.

"He was tearing the place apart after you disappeared." Deacon chimed in. "We had to bar him from the watchtower or we may have had a situation…"

I put my fork down, stomach roiling.

The General shot Deacon a quelling look.

"He must hate me." I whispered.

The General hummed thoughtfully. "He wants to see you."

I pulled my shoulders in, hunching back into my corner.

"It wouldn't be fair to him if you refused." The General sighed. "But if you do…" Deacon tensed as she reached out and lifted my chin. Only with a great effort of will did I keep my hand from my fork. I didn't want to think about what I'd do with it. "Annette. Do you love him?"

I jerked a nod.

"Never being able to say goodbye to someone you love is one of the most terrible things that can happen. Believe me, I know." She said. "You have an opportunity here. Maybe there's a chance that this won't be the last time, but if it is do you really want to pass on it?"

"I lied to him."

"You did." She agreed. "Don't you want to explain why?"

* * *

I had to face him. I wish I could say that it was easy, that he understood, but there had already been too many lies.

Too many.

Deacon told me he would be waiting just outside the door in case I needed him. I suppose that was my first indication.

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching.

RJ stood on the far side of the room in silence, his summer sky eyes darkened by storm. I couldn't read them, he had closed himself off from me. His brow was set and stormy, the furrow pronounced. His eyes hadn't moved from me since his feet had hit the concrete floor.

I had resigned myself to my fate. Nothing was in my hands at this moment.

I saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. That was my only warning.

"Was it all a lie?" He asked me, his voice cold and low.

"I don't know." Honest.

He turned from me, pacing the few strides available in the small room. "You…" He whirled. "It was all calculated, wasn't it? You used me, all of us."

"It was unintentional."

"Unintentional?" He roared.

I flinched, but didn't draw back like I wanted to. "I mean I didn't mean to use anyone."

"Coulda fooled me." He laughed bitterly. "Course that's what you did, didn't you? Fooled me, fooled everyone. So harmless, yeah?" His voice turned mocking. "Let me help, let me volunteer. All along a tunnelsnake among the molerats."

"Yes." I whispered.

"God," He rubbed his hands over his face. "I don't know if I'd feel better if you denied it."

"I don't want to lie to you."

"That's a first." He snarled.

"I never wanted to lie to anyone."

"But it was in your _programming_."

"Yes."

"Bullshit."

"Yes."

"Oh, so you agree?"

I took a deep breath. "Yes. I agree. I agree the whole thing was…was…bullshit." Another shuddering breath. "I was sent here. I was told to fit in. I was never told why." I was suddenly furiously angry. "I was used to do someone else's dirty work. My entire existence I was a tool to be used and thrown away. Do you think I asked for this?" I asked, lunging to my feet, only to be jerked backwards by the cuff still securing me to the bedstand.

I shook it at him. "You think I asked for _this_?" I cried. "Do you think I asked to have any semblance of a life taken from me? Even if it wasn't real it was mine. _Mine!_ " The tears came and I did nothing to try and stop them. "I had friends. I had a home. I had…I had _you."_ I sobbed. "I'd never had anything like that before. Then they took it all. All part of the plan."

My legs collapsed beneath me, depositing me back on the edge of the bed as the rage fled as quickly as it had come. "They threw me away. I wasn't intended to survive. I know that now. 'Quirks in programming' is just another way to say defective." I told the silent man, my voice colorless. I had nothing left. "I almost told you once."

"Almost isn't doing." He huffed, folding his arms over his chest. Did I detect a note of hesitation in his voice? No, of course not.

"Then you kissed me."

"So you're blaming me?"

I shook my head, looking away. "No. No, It was all me." I laughed bitterly. "Or maybe it was all them." I shook my head again. "But I didn't tell you because…I didn't want you to be disappointed in me. I didn't want to…"

He made a choking sound, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I didn't want to see his expression.

"…when you looked at me, you saw a real person. I didn't want to lose that."

"But you're not real." He said, the coldness back in his strained voice.

I looked down at my hands, too tired even to flinch at the censure in his voice. Instead I examined my hands as though I'd never seen them before. I rubbed my fingers, feeling the callouses, the scars, the reminders that they had been used to do real things.

I held my hands up to him, my eyes meeting his. "Are these real? I wonder. They've done so much."

"I don't see what you're getting at." He told me.

I let my hands drop into my lap.

"You kissed me, and I felt real." I told him, keeping my eyes on his as I stood.

Don't back down, even if you're wrong.

"Thank you." I felt the path of the tears on my cheeks, tasted their salt on my lips as I drank in the sight of him. "Thank you." I repeated putting all my heart into the words as I smiled at his beloved face.

And I did love him. This Institute hadn't programmed me to feel this way. I had to smile at the revelation. This was one thing they couldn't take away from me, this feeling. It was _mine_.

His mouth worked. He took a quick step towards me. His hands went around my face, holding a little too hard. I kept smiling as his eyes examined my tear-streaked cheeks.

His fingers swept through the moisture. "And these?" He asked softly. "Are these real?"

I let out a soft, pained chuckle. "I don't know. But they're not a lie."

* * *

I looked up from the comic the General had supplied to keep me occupied when the hatch opened.

Deacon descended the ladder and sat in the room's only chair with a sigh. "This thing is really uncomfortable." He told me.

I nodded, waiting.

"Nick arrived this morning."

I nodded again, setting the comic aside. "It's very kind of him to escort me."

"Yeah, heart of gold. Maybe literally. Who knows." Deacon replied. "Hey, you should ask him."

"Maybe I will."

Deacon's regarded me in silence. "Hell of a thing." He said finally.

I tilted my head in question but he just shook his head. "I was just thinking about…the person you reminded me of. I wonder if…"

"If they…"

"Yeah."

"It seems likely."

He rose and walked over to sit next to me with a sigh. "She was a good one."

"I'm sorry."

He rested his hand gently on my bowed head for a moment. "I'm glad she's a part of you." He said unexpectedly. "And I think she would be, too. She was like that."

"Thank you." I told him feelingly.

He stood and held out his hand. I stood and took it.

"Goodbye, Annette. It's been a pleasure to know you."

"Goodbye, Deacon." I smiled back tremulously. "Try not to fall into any more ghoul infested sewers before we meet again."

"Yeah, and if you see any abandoned T-45 armor on your way to the island…it's totally not mine." He laughed.


	16. Part 16

I, Synth pt 16

* * *

I placed the carefully packed box into the provisioner's arms.

"Make sure you're careful with that." I admonished.

"To be sure, I will protect it with my life." The man juggled the box in his arms in a way that made me cringe and want to retrieve the package immediately.

"I'm certain." I said, keeping my twitching fingers safely in the pockets of my coat.

"If I can ask?" He raised his brows at me over the edge of his new burden.

"It's a projector."

"Pardon?"

"Well, it's a projector part."

He still looked confused so I clarified, raising my voice slightly over the babble of voices on the dock. Far Harbor was busy this morning. Not surprising as we did not get many boats from the mainland. The General had established supply lines with the Commonwealth proper, but they were still rather erratic and the arrival of any shipments had turned into something of an event.

"Have you heard of films?" I asked, half my attention on the man in front of me, and half on the crowd moving around us.

"Oh, aye, of course."

"This is part of the machine that _projects_ the images onto the screens." I continued patiently. "I'm sending it to a friend of mine who has been working on the movie projector in Twilight Drive-in." I tapped the box, "Once he gets this he can play the movies for everyone."

"Certain?" He asked, awed.

I had become used to translating. "Certain." I told him firmly. Sturges would be pleased that I'd found a mostly working part and was able to fix it enough to send it along. I wished I could be there when he finally got it working.

He would also find the letters I had tucked in amongst the packing materials and make sure they were delivered to their intended recipients. Maybe one day Marie and Valeria would forgive me enough to reply. Steve at least had answered back, a short terse note that at least had an inquiry after my well-being in the post-script. I had gotten rather overly emotional over it.

The provisioner tottered off, holding the crate as though it contained fragile glass. I nodded in satisfaction, adjusting the brim of my hat and moving through the crowds towards the shield wall. My companion was waiting outside.

He stood and wagged his tail when I climbed down from the wall. "Come on then, Mishka." I told him, pulling my rifle from its back holster and making my way up the road.

The wolf knew the path well enough by now that he trotted a few yards ahead of me, head constantly turning so he could taste the air. More than once his nose had saved me from some bad situations so I had learned to always pay attention to whatever caught _his_ attention.

Mishka had been a gift and a very welcome one, for without his companionship I feared I would have found myself still in Acadia, too afraid to venture out the doors and into the frightening new world beyond.

Not that Acadia was a bad place, but the General had been correct in her assumption that I would find it boring.

Due to my unique programming I had found it difficult to settle into the quiet life there. It reminded me, to be frank, entirely too much of being inside the Institute. There were no bursts of laughter, or temper, aside from Jule's and those were born of her madness rather than any true joy.

It was almost as though the synths there had traded one underground institute for another, albeit one they resided in of their own free will.

It was just too quiet.

So when Nick had shown up with Mishka in tow, cagey about who exactly had procured him for me, it was like a breath of fresh air.

I watched the wolf as he paused, smelling something interesting on the side of the road.

DiMA had been a little surprised, in his mild way, when I volunteered to be our go-between with the other residents of the island. But he was nothing if not observant, and he knew I was restless. So he acceded reluctantly, and on the condition that I be available when he and Faraday wished to perform more tests to determine the exact nature of my unique programming.

We were collaborating with the Railroad, through Boxer, in order to share our findings. DiMA had long been leery, to put it mildly, of the nature of the mind-wipes that the Railroad provided synth escapees. And, once I had heard of the exact nature of the process, I was as well. My programming was a third option, provided we could figure out how it worked.

I was still a bit shocked that he agreed to let me risk myself, and usually I did find myself escorting others, well-armed others. They were the ones who taught me to use the rifle I carried. But lately, for whatever reason, DiMA had become more lenient with my excursions and I was allowed to go off on my own for reasonably short trips.

Mishka gave a low huff and dashed off the side of the road towards Longfellow's island. I hesitated for a moment before sighing and moving after him, splashing my way through the shallows.

It wasn't that I was unwelcome on Longfellow's island, I just tended to avoid it.

After all, that other program wasn't gone, the one that made me an unwilling assassin, and as the General resided on the island I was understandably cautious about approaching.

I came up to the entrance leading to the main island, hung with those odd bottles the Children of Atom liked so much. I had to admit it gave the spot a welcoming glow and illuminated the form of Dogmeat and Mishka greeting each other enthusiastically with much wagging of tail and mock-wrestling.

"Hey."

I looked past the two canines and saw Longfellow walking carefully towards me. He had been drinking again but was at least navigating the path without much stumbling, so he wasn't too far gone.

"Good morning." I called back.

"Yeah, yeah." He rested his hip against the rise of earth flanking the entry way. "She wants to see you."

"She's here?"

He gave me a look that very eloquently called me a half-witted gulper.

I took a step back. "Yes, of course."

He grunted. "Guns."

I handed him my rifle and the .44 that rested on my hip. As an afterthought I also gave him the knife that I had taken to keeping in my boot.

Longfellow looked almost approving as I slapped the hilt into his palm. "Go on, then." He jerked his head towards the west side of the island, where I could just make out a small house rising out of the fog.

* * *

The sea was quiet, the waves lapping against the stones upon which the shack was built. I would guess that when the water was more tempestuous they would crash over the rocks and rage at the stilts upon which the clapboard structure rested.

It was smaller than I expected, and mostly formed of sea-washed timbers. More of those glowing bottles hung from the railings and the eaves of the roof, tinkling gently in the breeze.

I stood uncertainly at the base of the stairs, waiting for the signals that meant my hidden programming was being triggered. Granted, it hadn't since I'd arrived here, but then again I hadn't seen the General in months, not since that last day in Sanctuary.

"Come in, Annette."

I waited for the pain, the disorientation, the uncontrollable impulses.

None of them came.

So I climbed the stairs and entered the General's sanctuary.

It was dim inside, thanks to the hazy day and lack of electric lighting. I wondered it that was a choice or practicality. Salt water and electricity didn't mix well, after all. The scent of it was everywhere, brine and damp wood.

A moment passed as I lingered in the doorway, waiting for my eyes to adjust.

The General sat in a chair near the window, looking out at the sea. I tensed but, once again, the impulses failed to appear. On the table near her shoulder a radio sat, hissing nothing but static. I took another step inside, and she turned her head to look at me, the reflection of fog clouding her glasses.

"Anything?" She asked.

I shook my head.

She smiled a small, tired smile. "Good. That's good." She gestured at the other chair before reaching out and turning off the hissing radio.

I glanced at it as I sat. "What was that?"

"The classical radio station." She told me heavily, leaning back in her chair again with a sigh. "Also, though less well known, the station the Institute used to transmit signals."

"Signals such as…"

"Such as the ones they used for their teleporters, and to…"

"Send orders to their operatives." I concluded. No wonder the station had always set my teeth on edge.

"Oh, so you figured it out."

"Not until just now."

"Well, since they're not broadcasting any longer, I think you may be in the clear."

My feelings on discovering that the Institute was no more had been surprisingly mixed. When I thought of the place as an organization, one that had used and abused us and those who lived in the Commonwealth above, I was very nearly delighted. On the other hand there had been many innocents residing in the complex, including the synths. The uncertainty had gnawed at me in those moments when I wasn't distracted by something else.

"They didn't tell me what happened exactly. The people?"

"A majority were evacuated."

"The synths?"

She hesitated. "There were some losses. But Z1 managed to mobilize the rest and get them out. He prefers to be called Zane now, by the way. He sends his greetings."

I looked out at the sea, allowing the steady pulsing of the waves to dictate the tides of my breath. Even so my chest felt heavy and my face burned with the complexity of the emotions that warred within.

"If you need to cry or scream or shout go ahead. I'm in no position to judge." The General told me.

"General…"

"Please, call me Denali."

"D-Denali…did you…"

The question that would have followed died on my lips when I looked into her devastated face. Suddenly I knew. I knew with such certainty that my eyes darted away from her to stare blankly at the weathered wall.

"Yes." She said simply.

We sat there in silence.

After a while I heard the scrabble of toenails on the stairs and Dogmeat nosed his way through the door. He padded over to the…to Denali and laid his head in her lap, sighing when she absently started to stroke his ears.

Too many terrible images my mind had conjured since I'd heard the news worked at crowding into my head. I wondered what had become of the child who had unknowingly bequeathed me my name. Had she survived? She would be older now, of course, but had she paused and grabbed a few things as she ran for her life? The vision of that little doll burning beat against my eyes.

Too many times it had featured in my down time dreams.

I was interrupted in my thoughts when Denali rose from her chair, leaving Dogmeat to yawn and tuck his nose under the edge of her chair. She walked the few short steps to the window and looked out.

"It's so peaceful here, don't you think?" She said softly. "It must be the fog, making everything else seem so distant and long ago." She was silent for a long minute. "But then all you have to do is walk out the door and things are just there, waiting. Sometimes I..."

I stared at her turned back, wondering just who this woman in front of me was. I had had firsthand experience of her kindness, and I knew that she was respected, generally. But I had to marvel at her quiet ruthlessness. Perhaps that had been what was needed to make the Commonwealth a different kind of place, an understated sort of determination to do terrible things, to live with them, and to move on to form the framework of something better.

The only question that remained was what exactly 'better' defined.

"Ah, I nearly…" She turned from the window and went to rummage in a large knapsack that huddled in the corner near the door. She returned with an armful of packages and letters that she offered to me. "A few people knew I was heading this way so they pressed me into playing messenger."

I took the bundle without thinking, staring down at it with wide eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"I didn't think anyone…" I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Wanted to talk to me."

She settled back into her chair with a thoughtful noise. "Well, to be absolutely honest, and I don't know what's in those, by the way, I wouldn't read your mail. I think they were more shocked than angry."

She reached down to pet Dogmeat again. "No, I guess that's not quite right. They were angry."

I flinched.

"No one likes being fooled." She continued. "But after they had time to cool off and think about it… I didn't tell them everything, mind." She gave me a telling look. "That was between you, me and the Institute."

I laid the items carefully in my lap and asked a question that had bothered me. "Why weren't you angrier? I nearly killed you."

"Oh, I was angry." She told me baldly. "I was furious."

"You hid it well…"

"Shock, mostly." She shrugged. "When I took a little time to think about it I realized it wasn't you I was really angry at. It was obvious you didn't have control of your actions at the time. When I heard the whole story I think that there was no way they would have allowed you to leave, even if you had truly been determined. The leash was short and they had a firm hold. Something would have brought you back, no matter what."

"We can't know that for certain."

"Only because you didn't pull too hard." She grimaced. "Isn't there anything else you'd rather talk about?"

It was obvious she didn't want to rehash the events any longer.

"How are they?" I asked instead.

She gave me a small smile. "Well. Very well. Valeria had her baby. I imagine she talked about it in her letter. Little girl with the reddest hair I've ever seen. Hamilton just about burst, calls her his little firecracker. The food was _fantastic_."

"Oh, that's wonderful." I whispered. "What is her name?"

"Lily."

After her sister, of course. I had missed so much.

"Marie's in love."

" _Marie_?" She had always seemed so against the idea.

"Oh, yes. With a lovely young lady who seems to be taking a bit out of the starch out of her sails. She even smiles once in a while without having to be drunk first." Denali smiled, a bit of sparkle back in her eyes.

"I'm glad for her."

"She deserves it."

I wondered what the Gen…what Denali knew about Marie's life that I didn't. There was something in the way she said those words that made me think it was nothing good.

We talked about the world I had left behind, of the people I knew, how they'd been getting on. The glow of the fog moved as the day went on.

I didn't ask about RJ.

She didn't offer.

"And Deacon?" I finally asked. "How is he?"

"Gone." She said shortly.

"He…he isn't…"

She laid her hand on my arm. "No! Oh, I'm sorry. It's still raw." Her eyes were pained. "He's fine, as far as I know. Just…gone." Her eyes had dulled again, the sparkle quelled.

"Why?"

She laughed, and it was painful. "I told him I loved him."

I blinked at her.

"I took the risk, knowing….even knowing what I know." She stood again, walking to the window and looking out at the fog. "I took the risk because it hurt too much to love him."

"I don't understand." I protested. "He…"

She turned to look at me, and I couldn't tell if the dampness on her cheeks was from tears or from the salt-water laden wind. "So when I asked him if he would try…when he couldn't … He left."

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

"No more than I." She replied, dashing her hands over her cheeks. "It's getting late."

I sprang to my feet, catching the package she had given me when it started to fall. "Oh, DiMA must be getting worried."

Denali gave me a complicated look. "He may be. Do you need someone to walk you back?"

"No, I'll be fine." I pulled off my pack and began moving things around. It would just fit. "I have Mishka."

Her eyes crinkled.

I smiled back, placing my package carefully in amongst the ammo and supplies. I stood, swinging the pack over my shoulders and offering my hand. "Thank you so much."

"It was nothing." She ignored my hand and stepped in to wrap her arms around me.

We both stood there for a good minute, our arms around each other taking what comfort the gesture could give to our wounded spirits.

She pulled back, reaching up to gently adjust my hair under the band of my hat. I still wore it, the hat RJ gave me. He hadn't asked for it back.

"It still looks good on you." She whispered.

"It hurts, sometimes, when I see my reflection." I replied just as softly. "But there are happy memories there, too."

"Sometimes that's all we can ask for." She kissed my forehead. "Happy memories."

* * *

I must have read the letters a hundred times. Two hundred. The paper became translucent along the creases and I had to handle them carefully when they started to tear.

The other synths at Acadia regarded me with mild bemusement when I sat there on my thin pallet for hours, reading and re-reading. Sometimes I cried, sometimes I laughed. Valeria scolded me for at least three pages before she started gushing about her new baby. Marie just scolded me, but at least ended the letter by reminding me not to trust Doc Weathers, which let me know she still cared.

Hancock and I had become close since he and Nick had been the ones to accompany me to the Island. He was the only one I could bring myself to talk to about RJ. To my surprise the two of them had great respect for one another. When I told him about RJ's comments he had laughed until he doubled over coughing.

"Thought I might take a fancy to poach." He had chuckled when he recovered. "You're a cute little thing, but I got the message loud and clear."

I read his short letter with a smile on my face.

The package had also contained a few things I had left behind, mostly inconsequential things I hadn't even realized I'd left but for one.

Valeria's letter had been folded inside my pink dress, laundered and still smelling of Sanctuary.

I held it to my face and inhaled deeply, letting the scents and sounds of that place flow through me before setting it aside to read each letter one more time.

I looked at my dress among the scattered papers when I felt that I had absorbed as much as I could to sustain me for a time.

Perhaps one day I would wear it again.

I reached out and brushed my fingers over the worn rose fabric, remembering RJ's eyes in the lantern light, the feel of his arms around me as we swayed together.

Someday.

* * *

Mishka raced ahead of me, launching himself at the Trapper that appeared out of the fog-choked brush at the side of the path. The Trapper screeched as my wolf's teeth tore into the muscles of his arm, yanking him to the ground. I aimed in and ended the madman's screeches with a final-sounding retort from my hunting rifle.

Both Mishka and I immediately turned our attention away from the now-crumpled form on the ground. It was rare the one would find a single Trapper hunting the roads. Mishka's nose casted from side to side as he sought out any unusual scents, lips peeled back from his blood flecked muzzle.

I hunkered down, making myself a smaller target, rifle held at ready for any further movement in the midday haze.

Mishka's head went down, hackles raised as he let loose a low, blood-curdling growl. I immediately moved, dashing to the side while his attention was caught. I knew whoever it was he had locked onto would not be able to pay attention to me. I moved inside the brush, making as little sound as possible. Trappers could not be reasoned with, and if we left them here they would just take the opportunity to attack someone else. Negotiation was not possible, so deadly force had to be used.

I held in my weary sigh.

It had been a long circuit and I was looking forward to a good rest at Dalton Farm, where I had made a second home.

In the year that had passed since the destruction of the Institute more of the refugee synths had filtered into Acadia, and it was actually starting to get a little crowded.

DiMA and Faraday finally unraveled the nature of my programming. Those that wanted to keep their own identities but still get a leg up in surviving outside the Institute arrived with the help of the Railroad, who also often stayed for a while to donate their memory paths to the cause. The adjusted synths needed a space to help them acclimate, something I surely would have welcomed rather than being dumped into the Commonwealth to fend for myself.

As I was no longer so essential I had a great deal more freedom to do what I wished and go where I wished, within reason.

I thought wistfully of my little cabin in a row of similar cabins, with its warm, nearly comfortable bed then shook my head. I heard the sound of Mishka rushing through the brush and angled to meet him, pulling out my .44 for the closer range.

Then I realized that Mishka was rushing at me.

I spun, raising my gun as the dark figure loomed out of the fog behind me, a cobbled together club, studded with rusted nails and stained with old blood, raised to strike.

Everything seemed to slow as the weapon came down towards my head.

I shot, the sound shockingly loud, in the fog.

The Trapped staggered, but snarled and raised his weapon again when a second shot rang out.

I stepped to the side as the Trapper's body fell in the space where I had been standing.

That second shot had not been mine.

I spun behind a nearby tree and Mishka paused by my feet, looking up at me as though making sure I was okay, before he stared off into the fog, golden eyes alert.

I carefully peered around the tree as he stalked forward, teeth bared.

"Call that thing off, will you?"

A jolt hit my chest.

Mishka continued his advance.

"C'mon, seriously?"

I could just make out an, oh, so familiar form emerging out of the fog, sidling carefully sideways, not turning his back on the wolf stalking him.

"It's me."

"Mishka." I whispered. "To me."

Mishka immediately turned and trotted back to my side, sitting and looking up at me for approval. I reached down and stroked his head. "Good boy."

He panted, smiling in his wolfish way before turning close attention at the cautiously approaching man.

He was watching my wolf with just as much suspicion when I circled around the tree, expression carefully blank.

He had the same thin careworn face and slender frame. His coat had acquired a few new patches, but the minuteman hat still sat at a jaunty angle upon his head. He raised his head, and I could see his summer-sky eyes in the shadow of the brim.

I couldn't interpret the look he leveled at me. Though I had matured in my interpretation of human expression this one was beyond me.

But he didn't look angry.

I lifted my head and met his eyes when he stopped a few feet away.

At my feet, Mishka whined, obviously sensing the tension between us.

RJ shuffled his feet in the dead leaves beneath the trees, adjusting the brim of his hat with his free hand. "Hey."

"RJ."

He shrugged his shoulders. "It's…uh, been a while."

"It has." I didn't look away. "Have you been well?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I just got back from the Capitol Wasteland." He said.

"That's a long way." I said. "How is Duncan? Did he recover?"

A small smile crossed his face, brief as a ray of sun through the fog. "He's good. He's real good. I brought him back here."

"Here?" I glanced around.

He scoffed. "You're always so literal."

I shrugged.

"He's with the folks at Sanctuary. They're fussing over him so much he's happy as can be." His whole face softened as he talked about his son.

I felt myself softening in response, but I couldn't let my guard down. "So why are you here, and not there with him?"

He lifted his chin. "You."

I opened my mouth and snapped it shut.

He stepped closer to me.

Mishka rumbled and I put a calming hand on his head.

"I came here for you." He murmured. Another step closer. "Annie."

"Don't…" I refused to lower my eyes, to shrink back.

His eyes flashed. "Me and Deacon had a long talk while we traveled. He told me a lot of things." He stepped closer. "I started looking at the situation close."

"You did?"

"Yeah. I started looking at you and me. Really looking." He said. Another step closer.

"And what did you see?"

He reached up and brushed at the hair tucked behind my ear. Against my will I leaned into his touch. His hand traveled down my shoulder to my hand. His hand, almost disproportionate to his slim frame, raised mine. He examined my fingers, rubbing along the calluses, caressing the scars. He lifted my hand to his face and pressed his lips to my fingers.

"I saw something real."

He looked up at me from under his eyelashes. His eyes were uncertain, vulnerable.

"Was it?" He hesitated. "Is it?"

I felt something inside me, something I had held so tight that it had formed a small hard ball in my heart, break loose of its bonds. My fingers twined with his as tears wet my cheeks.

He inhaled a sharp breath.

I reached out my other hand to touch his face.

"You really want to do this here?" I asked him, realizing for the first time that we'd been reacquainted over the bodies of the Trappers. I released his hand, crouched and started going through their pockets. I found a few caps and appropriated them before continuing the process.

He glanced down and grinned approvingly. "Yeah, well. I had to chase you over half the d…island, so when I finally caught up…"

I looked up at him. We gazed at each other through the sun-pierced fog.

"Better be going." I finally said, brushing my hands off. I checked my rifle and moved back towards the road. "Come on Mishka."

"Hey!"

I shot him a mischievous look over my shoulder as my wolf trotted after me. "Aren't you coming?"

He crashed to my side, grumbling . "Don't I even get half...?"

I bumped his shoulder with mine and smiled as we walked into the fog together, rifles in our hands, errant rays of light crossing our path.

* * *

Author's Notes: And here we end. It's been a long journey for Annette and I. I certainly didn't think when I got this idea that it would take me over a year to get to the here.

To all of you who have stuck with this from the beginning, thank you for sharing the progression of Annette's story with me. She was more stubborn than you know from time to time but I'm glad we made it in the end.

To all of you who are coming in at the end, I hope you enjoy the story.

For everyone who left comments. THANK YOU. You have no idea how much a well thought out comment or a few words of encouragement can help a writer through a thought block. Your speculations and suggestions informed some of the situations or even made me think of them in a new way. A few of you even guessed some of my plans, you clever people!

Always feel free to PM me if you have a question. I might even have a relatively well-reasoned answer.

Oh…

One last thing…

I seem to have left the General alone and sad in a shack by the ocean. How dare I! How unconscionable! One would think I'd write some sort of epilogue to address a certain loose end.

Soon we'll look for the lantern one more time.

Thank you for reading.


	17. Epilogue

I, Synth : Epilogue

* * *

Denali eyed the broken boards beneath her feet and sighed. She'd get around to fixing them eventually. But there were too many other things that needed fixed first.

One needed to prioritize.

She was tired of prioritizing. She was just tired in general.

Between keeping the Brotherhood of Steel playing nice with the Commonwealth citizens, organizing the Minutemen, moving the synths and the Institute survivors into places where no one wanted to kill them, a herculean task, among a million other things, she felt herself being worn thin.

It used to be, at times like this, Deacon would make some sort of joke and gently steer her away from what was frustrating her. It used to be he was a constant presence at her shoulder, his intimate knowledge of this broken world bolstering her up when she faltered. Even now, a year after the destruction of the Institute and his disappearance, she still expected to turn and find him strolling behind her in whatever costume took his fancy that particular day.

She took careful steps, feeling the rotting wood give a bit beneath her fingers and sag beneath her feet. Almost to the stairs now. She took a breath and let it out slowly. No use lingering in the past; she'd learned that lesson all too well.

For now everything was running relatively smoothly. Soon the Minutemen, their numbers bolstered by the Brotherhood, would move on the raider strongholds and super-mutant nests in an effort to remove them permanently. As always the Railroad would be operating in the shadows, coordinating quietly in the way they did best.

Deacon had never understood why she had turned to the Minutemen when it became clear that the Institute needed to be stopped. But the Railroad were few, and not used to operating in the offensive. She would have lost far too many and in the aftermath she knew she would need their help getting the synths settled into new and, hopefully, better lives.

Besides, she had no doubt that somewhere in the mix the Railroad would have moved against the Brotherhood, and they needed them as well. Or so she had thought at the time.

She would have liked to talk it over with Deacon. He had been against the Brotherhood's involvement, and with good reason. The general soldiery weren't too bad on an individual level, but their leadership tended on the fanatical side. Sometime soon something may have to be done about it. Perhaps it was time to gently pick Danse's brain on the matter, not that she would ever tell him _why_ she wanted the information.

She sighed again. But not today. Today she was going to her refuge, was almost there, in fact, and she was going to try and rest. To forget.

Too bad her nightmares wouldn't leave her alone.

She blamed those nightmares for what had come after the destruction. For driving him away.

She leaned against the creaking railing, looking out at the fog-shrouded sea.

She hadn't wanted to be alone that night. Her mind just wouldn't shut down, Shaun's eyes staring at her accusingly, the sounds of screams, the smell of fire consuming flesh and paint. The infiltration and destruction of the Institute had been a nightmare in and of itself. The memories it left behind were even worse.

He had been lying in bed but not sleeping when she appeared at his door. He turned his head to look at her as she stood, uncertain and grief stricken and guilt-wracked in the doorway. She had asked to stay. It had been a long heart-breaking moment before he shifted over and patted the bed beside him.

It had felt so _right_ , lying there beside him, her head pillowed on his shoulder, her hand resting on his chest and feeling his heart beat. It had felt so right that all the pain and terror came bubbling up and she wept. For too long had she kept it all tamped down and now it chose to rise and swell over her like a drowning wave.

She had clutched him as though he were the life-line, expecting at any moment that he would move away from her grasping hand.

But he hadn't. Instead he had rolled closer, enfolding her in his arms and letting her sob against him until she was limp with the relief of finally having poured it all out. He had tucked her head under his chin and stroked her hair so gently.

And when she pulled back just enough to lift her head and press her mouth to his, he didn't move away.

It was an act of affirmation, that they were there, that they were alive. Their lovemaking was occasionally awkward, two bodies unused to such intimacy, but oh so sweet and tender. As though they were pretending that the only thing that existed in this moment was the other. A wonderful, beautiful lie that everything would turn out all right in the end.

A lie that could not withstand the light of day.

When she awoke, warm and rested and sated in various ways she had reached out to him to find his side of the bed empty.

She heard movement and opened her eyes to the dim morning light filtering through the window-boards.

He was sitting in the room's one rickety chair, watching her. A full traveler's pack sat near his feet.

Her heart beat a tattoo of despair against her ribs. "Please don't go."

He took a long breath, eyes hidden, face emotionless behind his dark glasses.

"I…" She stood, holding the blankets wrapped around her body. "D…" She felt as though someone were sitting on her chest. "Please."

"What do you want me to say?" He asked; voice harsh with the emotion he wouldn't allow on his face. "I've been a lot of things…I can't be this. I can't be what you need."

"You don't have to be anything." She protested, keeping still for the fear of spooking him into running before she could finish. " _I love_ _you._ "

"You may think you do."

"Don't you think I would know?" She asked. "Don't you think I would know what love feels like?"

"You love your husband."

She didn't let it hurt her, or at least didn't let it show. "Yes, I did. I loved him. But that doesn't mean I can never feel love again. Love isn't exclusive. It isn't finite. Just because I loved him doesn't mean I can't love you."

She took a step forward. He withdrew to the door so she stopped, trying to think of the words that would keep him from making that last step.

"You know what I am." He said.

"I know what you _were_." She said softly. "And I know what you've become. I look at you and I see a good man, Deacon. Please, give this a chance."

He seemed to battle with himself for a moment before his chin lifted. "I can't. Goodbye, Den."

And he was gone.

She stumbled, coming back to herself with a snap to realize that the rotting railing had given beneath her hand. She took a few careful steps back, breathing heavily.

She didn't blame him. Though from time to time she had thought…had _hoped_ , that he returned her feelings, he was right. She knew what he had been, she knew what he was.

And she had fallen in love with him anyway. She couldn't pinpoint the moment when friendship had become something more, but she thought it may have been when he vanished after her into the Glowing Sea. The thought of losing him on top of everything else pressing upon her had nearly broken her. When he returned…she had very nearly done something foolish then but had held back, determined to keep him by her side no matter her personal feelings.

Even then she had known.

Irritably she pulled her hat off and ran her hand through her hair.

This wasn't why she was here. She was here to rest and recharge and getting lost in maudlin memories wasn't going to help.

She crammed her hat back on her head and walked those last few steps to her little house at the edge of the sea.

The light slanted sideways through the stilts, and the buoys she had hung to give the place a little more color swung gently against each other with soft clacking sounds. She let the sights and sounds soothe her roiling mind. It worked just as well now as it had when she and Nick had first cobbled the place together out of salvage and driftwood.

She thought Nick had understood why she needed this refuge. At the very least he hadn't protested when she requested his help and she thought he had been as pleased as she had been when it all came together so well. He was a frequent guest, one of the few she let into her private haven.

The stairs creaked beneath her weight.

She hadn't even brought Shaun here.

Right now he was under the watchful eyes of the citizens of the Twilight Drive-in. She wished she could spend more time with the boy, but it was so hard to be around him. He was so sweet and intelligent and curious about everything.

He was a painful reminder of what might have been.

Whenever she looked into his eyes she saw Shaun's accusing stare, saw him dying as he watched her tear apart everything he had spent his life building.

But of course the child synth didn't know that so she was careful not to let it show.

Eventually she would have to search for a more permanent solution as far as his living situation. No doubt the people would begin to suspect something was amiss when a few years went by with no change in the boy. He would not get taller, never fall in love, get married or have children. A true Peter Pan who could never grow up. She didn't know how to tell the citizens and she didn't know how to tell Shaun the terrible reality in which he was unwittingly immersed.

Given the mistrust the Commonwealth held against the synths she wasn't entirely certain he would be safe should the truth come out.

She sighed again, dismissing the issue for another day.

The door creaked as she pushed it open. She took an odd comfort in it. It was a sound that meant home.

She stood in the entry and felt the stress of the outside world drain away. Her hat came off, tossed on the side table without a glance. She leaned her rifle in the corner, and hooked her silenced pistol on the pegboard. Her fingers hesitated for a moment. In that moment _everything_ seemed to hesitate.

The world started moving again as she took her coat off and hung it by the door.

"Made yourself at home?" She asked, sitting on the edge of her bed to unlace her boots.

"I may have helped myself to your store of Fancy Lads. Hope you don't mind."

She shrugged. "I only kept them around for you. Too sweet…and irradiated for me."

A small pause. "That's what makes them special."

She set her boots aside and padded over to the little hotplate. "Coffee?"

"Wouldn't say no to a cup."

She was proud of herself for keeping her hands steady as she poured water and measured the precious grounds. Soon the scent of coffee competed with the smells of the cigarette smoke and the sea.

She felt his eyes on her back as she made two cups, the steam rising lazily from them into the heavy air.

He accepted his mug with a nod, head turning to follow her when she sat in her usual chair. The cushions embraced her in a familiar and welcoming way. It was a feeling she needed right now, now that her retreat had become in some ways even more nerve wracking than the world outside. She wished he would speak. There were too many things she _wanted_ to say, but she didn't know how to begin.

"Nice place." He finally said around the rim of his coffee cup.

"I like it." She replied.

"I can see why." He said. "Very peaceful here, and you have a great guard dog."

"Dogmeat's not here…"

"I meant that Longfellow…er, fellow." He slanted her a half-smile, welcoming her to join in. She found it difficult. "He's pretty alert, considering."

"Oh." She nodded. "He didn't see you come in, I take it."

"Course not. My sneak skills are at maximum." A long pause followed before he continued slowly. "I didn't want him telling you I was here."

"Why is that?"

"Wasn't sure if you'd be exactly welcoming." He rubbed his free hand over his smooth head. "We didn't…part in the best of ways."

"I didn't blame you." She murmured. "I don't blame you."

"That makes one of us."

She turned her head sharply to look at him, but he was staring down at his cup of coffee.

"Deacon."

He hummed an acknowledgment.

"Deacon, look at me."

He turned his head slightly.

"It wasn't your fault. You were right. I knew that you were…are still in love with Barbara. I was selfish. I wanted you to see…" Now it was her turn to look away. "I wanted you. I took advantage of the situation." She stood and turned to the window. "It was wrong of me to try and force you to love me."

She heard a thump and the rustle of clothing. She didn't turn to look.

"You didn't have to force me to love you." She felt his hand, cautious, on the edge of her shoulder blade as her heart leapt into her throat.

"Then why did you go?" She forced out.

"I...it's not a good excuse, but I got scared. Facing down a Deathclaw in your underwear scared, but like, times a thousand." His fingers moved across her shoulders, but lightly, as though he was prepared for her to move away. "So I ran. It's what I do, remember? Ran as far as the Capitol Wasteland."

"Why there?"

"Certain someone was heading that way, so I tagged along." His fingers were on her arm now. "Had a few things I wanted to say to him. More I talked to him…more I convinced myself."

"You always were a smooth talker."

"Yeah, but this time I listened to what I had to say."

He was so close to her now that she could feel the familiar heat of his body on the skin of her back. It was a real fight not to lean into that warmth, let it envelop her.

"And I listened to what Mac had to say. He's not so bad once you get to know him, just had a few notions he needed to be disabused of." His hand went to her hip, resting there as he took another step closer. "Last I saw he was heading off into the fog. Seems there was someone he wanted to see."

She smiled, though she knew he wouldn't see it. "Hope it goes well, for both their sakes."

"Yeah, me too." His breath brushed the back of her neck. "Den…is _this_ going well?"

"I think so." She replied. "Are you still scared?"

"Shaking in my boots." He said. "It's…been a while. Figured you might have changed your mind once you had time to think about it."

She leaned her head back, and he took that last tiny step so her head rested on his shoulder. His arms curled around her.

"I thought about it." She rolled her head so she could look at his face. It was a bit of a shock. She turned in his arms, pulling back a little so she could raise her hand and trace the tan lines his glasses had left behind. His eyes found hers, uncertain, hopeful and still a little scared. "I thought about you every day. I missed you every day."

"You know I'm damaged goods." He whispered.

She rested her forehead on his. "So am I, D. But I think we have enough salvageable pieces to make it work."

"Now you sound like Sturges." He sighed.

She chuckled.

"Speaking of…heard he got that movie projector up and running." He said softly, eyes darting down to her lips then up again.

"That's right." She told him. "We haven't found any complete films yet, too much deterioration, but the settlers don't seem to mind."

"Want to go see one with me?"

She drew back a little, her mouth falling slightly open. "Deacon, did you just ask me out on a date?"

"Call me old fashioned."

"You're old fashioned." She laughed, delighted to see how his eyes lit up with humor.

He pulled her closer, stopping her laughter with a knee-weakening kiss.

When she emerged, slightly breathless, she looked up into his heated gaze. "How old fashioned are you?" She whispered.

"Not _that_ old fashioned." He murmured.

"Oh." She leaned in again, breathing in the scent of seawater and coffee, cigarette smoke and _him_. The smell of home. "Good."

* * *

Author's Notes:

This scene, or something like it, came into existence even before Annette and 'I, Synth.'

One of my personal disappointments in the game was the fact that I, as the player character, fell in love with Deacon long before I discovered that he was not one of the romance options. So, I wanted to write a story in which the two of them got together. But that's pretty common, right?

I thought about it, and came up with a different idea. I could still write that story, but I would write it as a story within a story, where their relationship was there but not part of the main narrative. I wanted the General to fall in love with him off screen over the course of the campaign.

So 'I, Synth' came into being as a concept. Annette got thrown into the protagonist spotlight and MacCready sauntered in. As a synth Annette tends to be very reactive to her situation. Rarely do you see her take initiative. You'll notice that in many of her interactions with Mac came from him giving her 'orders' without realizing it that she followed, again without realizing it. It took the climax and her separation to make her finally start to stand on her own two feet. And now, should their relationship work out (it does, I'm the author) she'll be at his side instead of walking behind him.

D and Den are a different beast altogether. There were reasons, after all, that they could not be a couple in the game universe. The trick was to break down those barriers in a way that kept Deacon's character intact.

I hope I managed it.

Because there's a reason I will never side with the Institute or the Brotherhood.

He wears glasses, and is secretly a redhead.

Don't ask me how I know.

Much love,

M. A.


End file.
